


Universes

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2014 [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, tags by chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 29,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2348111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of stories in which alternative universe hooks were used as prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one night stand and falling pregnant

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags and ratings are by chapter. Please ensure you read the author notes for each chapter before reading the chapter itself!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: actual trans guy mpreg  
> warnings: unplanned pregnancy

Anduin wasn’t impressed.

He’d just been pulled out of a meeting to be given, he’d been told, some very important news. But what possible news could it  _be_? Everyone who possibly could have been giving it had been in the meeting! Except—

He couldn’t say he was surprised when it was Wrathion who walked into the drawing room.  
"What is this about?" Anduin said, trying not to sound angry.

Wrathion waited for the servants to leave the room, then the guards. Anduin’s heart rate picked up; he had a bad feeling about this. He repeated his question again, louder. “What is this about, Wrathion?!”

Suddenly, all at once, he found  himself slammed back against the wall. Wrathion’s face was right against his, curled up in a snarl. “ _What did you do?!_ ”  
"Wh— What?! Wrathion! I don’t know what you’re talking about!"  
"You  _must_!” He gripped the front of Anduin’s tabard and slammed him against the wall again. “ _What did you_   ** _do_**!”  
"No! Wrathion! I really don’t!" It was Anduin’s turn to bare his teeth. "And if you don’t let go of me, I’ll  _make_  you do so!”

Wrathion practically threw him away, though Anduin only stumbled a couple of paces before catching himself. “So that’s how it’s going to be?! First you won’t explain, now you’re  _threatening_  me?!”  
"Wrathion! I have  _no idea_  what you’re talking about!”  
” _Sure_  you don’t!”  
"No! I really, really don’t! So just tell me and maybe we can have this conversation properly!"

Wrathion  _glared_ , but Anduin - ever-perceptive - could see the panic in his eyes, and forced himself to calm. Wrathion was frightened of something, that’s all. “Come on, Wrathion. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Wrathion made two false starts, then finally spoke.  
"I’m pregnant. After  _your_  one-night stand.”

And Anduin would have loved to formulate some response. Something reassuring, or clever, or…  _something_  that wasn’t stuttering “y-you’re sure?”  
"Yes."

The Prince of Stormwind passed out.


	2. meeting in the A&E au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: wheelchair user anduin, mentally ill wrathion  
> warnings: hospitalisation, voluntary therapy

They met in the triage area.

Well. They “met”.

They chatted for a few minutes while Anduin’s stretcher was paused by the edge of the corridor. Wrathion couldn’t see what was wrong with him - he was covered in blankets - but he already had a drip with liquids and… painkillers. So obviously something very wrong indeed.

Their talk was amiable, although Anduin didn’t seem all there (obviously). And maybe they wouldn’t have met again, if Wrathion hadn’t been in the foyer once again for an outpatient appointment when Anduin had finally been discharged.

"Hey," Wrathion called out, walking over. "Good to see you about."  
There was a moment of confusion on Anduin’s face, before he grinned. “Oh! You’re from the triage room, right?”  
"Yeah, that’s me."  
"I thought I’d imagined you."  
"What, am I that dreamy?"

Anduin’s laugh was light-hearted and pleasant. Wrathion grinned.

"Either way, thank you for keeping me company." Anduin paused. "Would, uhh… would you like to do it again some time? Um, keep me company, that is. Not. Be in the triage room."  
Wrathion’s laugh was a little less easy, but far from closed-off. “Sure. Do you like coffee? I know a place on the highstreet with decent accessible seating.”

"I think I’d like that," Anduin grinned. "So… Monday, mid-afternoon? Is that alright for you?"  
"Sure."  
"Alright. See you, then."

Wrathion watched Anduin wheel himself away - quietly trying to pretend he wasn’t blushing.


	3. meeting at a party whilst drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: alcohol, intoxication

"Shit! Who knows first aid?"  
"Uhh— Hey! Anduin!"

The blond looked up from his conversation with the very handsome ginger man, and over to where he’d heard his name shouted from. “Huh?”  
"You know first aid, right?"

He mumbled an apology to the man and jogged over. He only stumbled _once_. He thought that was an achievement, considering how much he’d had. ”What’s the matter?”  
"Wrathion just kind of passed out. He, uh, he doesn’t drink much, so I guess…" The short black-haired girl who’d called him over gestured to a form half-slumped under the table.

Anduin genuinely hadn’t spotted him - he jumped a little in surprise, then laughed. ”Uhh— alright, uh, how much has he had?”  
"More than you."  
"Right. Right." He put his glass on the table - it was mostly empty already, so never mind - and carefully knelt down to Wrathion’s level. "Wrathion?"  
"Mnrggh…"  
"Wrathion, can you sit up for me?"

He mumbled something that sounded a little like “you can’t tell me what to do,” but only a  _little_ , and grabbed for the table leg to try and pull himself upright. Only, it turned out to be Anduin’s arm. Not expecting the sudden tug, it was Anduin’s turn to fall over from where he was precariously crouched - right on top of the dangerously drunk person that he was  _supposed_  to be  _helping_.

Well… drunk or not, when Anduin was face-to-face with him… he was  _at least_  as handsome as the ginger man.


	4. Two miserable people meeting at a wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: chronic pain anduin  
> warnings: ship hate (kalec/jaina)

"This is a farce, isn’t it?"  
"What?"

Anduin looked up from his drink at the stranger. He was quite short, in well-fitted but unusual-looking formal wear. He wasn’t holding a drink, and he was looking right at Anduin. “Mind if I join you?”

"Uh… sure." Anduin shuffled his chair so the newcomer could pull one up too. They sat with each other in silence for a few moments. It was Anduin who broke it again. "What you were saying…"  
"About how this is a farce. Yes. Do you agree?"  
"… I wasn’t going to say anything," Anduin grimaced. "Auntie Jaina seems so happy about getting married, but…"  
"…the groom is a pillock," the young man finished.

Anduin laughed. “Yes. He treats her so awfully…” Then paused. “But… if I might ask, who are you, anyway?”  
"I was invited by said groom as a matter of  _courtesy_. His predecessor and my father were friends of a sort, so of course I earn an invitation to his spectacle of a wedding as a consolation prize.”  
"Your father..?"  
"Perhaps you’ve heard of him, yes. I believe the name your people call him by is ‘Deathwing’."

Oh.

Anduin couldn’t help but laugh. “But you’re  _not_  evil, I take it.”  
"No, very much not. Cleansed of all corruption by a dreadful Titan surgical machine."  
"And you expect me to believe that?"  
"I invite you to use your prowess in  _mind control_  to find out for yourself, Anduin Wrynn.”  
Anduin laughed uneasily, getting the point. “Alright, I believe you. For now.”

They stayed in silence for a few moments before Wrathion spoke again. “What say we blow this, ahh, icicle stand, as it were, and take a walk out to the balcony?”  
Anduin laughed again at the awkward metaphor, then stood up. “I suppose that would be nice.”

After all, he thought, even with his injuries, and even if this stranger did turn out to be evil… it couldn’t be any more painful than pretending to watch Kalec drag his poor aunt around the dance floor for the fiftieth time.


	5. Sex worker / client AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: mentally ill anduin  
> warnings: alcohol, discussion of dubious consent, self-harm mention
> 
> Please note Wrathion's attitudes can't be taken as representative of the demographic he's placed in for this AU.

"You won't take me?"  
"No."  
"Wh-- Why not?"

The man looked down at himself, nervously. Like he thought it was something about the way he looked. In a way, he wasn't wrong.

"I don't think you're here to have sex," Wrathion said plainly. "I think you're here for something else. And I'm here to get paid to have sex with you. Not to get paid to do something else."  
"I-- I AM here to have sex! Whatever makes you think I'm not?!"  
"I think you're here to _do_ sex, not to _have_ it. That usually ends in tears and regrets. And demands for a refund." He waved a hand. "Too messy, and getting you to sign a waiver usually just ends in the worker getting sued. I really don't have time for this."

The blond ran an anxious hand back through his hair, looking like he was going to cry. "No, really. What makes you think that?"  
"I read people for a living," Wrathion drawled. He looked the man over again. Shirt done up far too hastily; faint smell of alcohol; bulk under the wrist of his shirt from a bandage. Self-destructive tendencies. Very out of sorts for the kind of personality he projected on his Facebook account. "Of course I could tell. Now, if you don't mind, if you get a move on soon I can still get another client for this evening."

He _did_ start crying, and Wrathion had to admit he felt a pang of sympathy. He waved it away quickly... but it returned.

"...look, if you're willing to still pay me full price for the session, we could just sit down and talk for a bit."  
The man sniffed, trying to stop his tears from falling. "I don't need a pity deal."  
"Then don't take it."

More sniffling. Until, eventually, he shuffled forwards to sit down on the edge of the hotel bed.  
"...fine," he conceded. "Full price."  
"Just talking," Wrathion repeated, as a warning. "You're sure?"  
Anduin Wrynn nodded, hanging his head. "I could probably use the time to reflect."


	6. Soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

Wrathion hadn't been sure what it would be like when he met one of his soulmates. Of course, he'd always thought it was a good possibility he didn't have even  _one_ ; soulbonds were broken when one died, and Wrathion had died before he was even born. He'd been resuscitated, of course, but there were plenty of stories of babies who had been resuscitated never forming a soulbond, and even of adults who had been resuscitated  _losing_  theirs. There were also plenty of stories of chimeras - people with more than one set of genetic code - failing to properly consolidate their soulbonds, and Wrathion was one of those, too.

It was still completely possible to have a relationship with someone who wasn't your soulmate, of course; plenty of people went through their entire life never having met theirs, and were no worse off for it. But it wasn't the same thing. Wrathion was expecting to go through his entire life having never experienced a soulbond, and he had come to terms with that. He was happy with it.

He certainly didn't expect to feel it when he met the softest, kindest, and most naïve individual he'd ever had the displeasure to hear about.

Anduin Wrynn was small, and delicate, and...  _blond_. He had blue eyes, straight flat hair, and lots of freckles. He was soft-spoken and nice. He held doors open for people. He lent people pens when they asked and never asked for them back afterwards. He gave up his lunch, more than once, because someone else had forgotten theirs or been unable to afford it. He was exactly the kind of person Wrathion would avoid, under normal circumstances; they were always heading for a fall, and Wrathion never liked to be around when they finally met it. It usually ended in him getting blamed, after all.

But the first time he actually  _saw_  him, eating alone in the work cafeteria, he felt this... pull. And before he knew what he was doing, he was walking over to introduce himself.

"Hey, uhh--"  
"Hm?" Anduin looked up, and their eyes met. Anduin must have felt it too, because he gasped a little. "Oh... oh my."

He didn't even  _swear_. Really? _This_ was who the fates had picked out for him?

Ridiculous.


	7. Waking up with amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his injury, Anduin awakes with amnesia, meaning he can't remember anything that happened up to about two weeks before the Bell incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: trauma-induced memory loss

Wrathion and Anduin Wrynn had met before.

Anduin had been on his way to Kun Lai with the Mallet of Harmony. They'd chatted the night away, even kissed; the next morning, Anduin had told Wrathion that he might not come back. He was prepared, he said, for the possibility Garrosh's people would kill him. Wrathion offered to send agents with him and his hero, to monitor things and extract the two of them if things went wrong - but Anduin refused. He couldn't risk a friend he only just met.

Now, weeks later, he was back at the Tavern. And he didn't remember even a little of what they'd done before, or even that they'd _met_.

It didn't bother Wrathion too much, at first. He went with it. He didn't want to upset Anduin by suggesting something that might alarm him, or by insisting they'd kissed before when such a thing could certainly be taken as coercive. He'd heard Anduin had lost his memories from shortly before the... incident, so it didn't surprise him, either.

But when Anduin began to distrust him... it stung.

It seemed what was happening was that Anduin was getting snatches of déjà vu, misattributing them as flashbacks to his time with Katrana Prestor, and....

"I don't trust you," he spat, as Wrathion tried to speak with his champions. And from lips so soft and sweet that had whispered such kind things in his ear the first night they'd spent with each other... he struggled to hold himself together.


	8. Popular kid & nerd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: bullying implied, police mention

He had to be making fun of him. He  _had_  to.

Anduin Wrynn had been sending Wrathion presents every single day.

Handmade cards, and cookies, and decorated cakes with red icing and golden swirls - Wrathion's favourite colours. And, most recently, a stuffed animal; a tiny dragon, in fact, again Wrathion's favourite. He  _had_  to be making fun of him. This had to be a joke somehow.

He decided he had to confront him after school. Wrathion wasn't exactly well-liked, viewed as something of a teacher's pet by other students and a troublemaker by the teachers; Anduin, on the other hand, was adored by everyone. Yet somehow, he'd managed to avoid letting it go to his head, and so even those who usually complained about the "popular kids" were happy to invite him to their parties. Wrathion felt like the only one that didn't trust him. So he had to do it after class was dismissed, or risk getting ganged up on by nearly the entire school.

Anduin seemed to be late going home today, so it was easy for Wrathion to catch him alone.

" _You_!"  
"Ah! Wrathion!" Anduin's face lit up. "I was hoping I'd run into you--"  
" _What_  do you think you are doing?!" Wrathion got right up in his space, shoving an accusing finger at Anduin's chest. "Are you trying to humiliate me?! Make fun of me?! Is there a Facebook group dedicated to recording my reactions or something?!"

Anduin took a step back, laughing nervously. "Uh-- no, actually, I--"  
"Then  _what_?? Stop lying to me!"  
"--I was hoping maybe we could go out on some kind of date, soon, maybe," Anduin said, holding his hands up defensively.

"...what?" Wrathion looked around to ensure they were, indeed, alone. The car park they were in was empty except for the head teacher's car. "Really?"  
"Yeah," Anduin said, rubbing the back of his head. He was blushing. "I mean, if it's making you uncomfortable, I can stop. But I just wanted to do something sweet for you. Because I think you're kind of. Sweet." There was that awkward grin, that grin that made Wrathion's heart flutter and his face flush. Ridiculous.

"...alright," he conceded. "I'll trust you. For now."  
"You will?!" Anduin perked right up, excitement taking over his expression.  
"Yes, yes. Where did you want to meet?"  
"The coffee shop on the highstreet! At 3pm on Saturday! Is that okay?"  
"Yes." Wrathion raised an eyebrow, and gave just the smallest smile. "Then... all those gifts..."  
"I meant every one," Anduin reassured, his smile overflowing with hope and happiness. "You'll really meet with me?"  
Wrathion nodded. Had he really judged their relationship so badly..? Anduin was being so genuine... "Of course I will. I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about."

A horn honked, and Anduin's head whipped around. A cop car, with the lights taken off the roof to signify it was off-duty, had pulled up near the edge of the car park and was waiting for him. Obviously Anduin's father. "I gotta go," he said, picking his backpack up and slinging it over his shoulder. "See you Saturday?"  
"Yes. Saturday, 3pm, high street coffee shop."  
"Great!"

Anduin hesitated... leaned down, and pressed a chaste kiss to Wrathion's cheek before darting off to meet with his father.

Wrathion's hand came to touch lightly at his face. How unexpected...


	9. One diagnosed with a terminal illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: chronically ill wrathion, chronic pain anduin  
> warnings: character death discussion, chronic terminal illness

Wrathion didn't know why he hadn't expected the tears. Anduin cried about everything. Of course he'd cry about this.

What Anduin  _said_  surprised him even more, somehow:

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"...well," Wrathion said quietly, "I didn't want you to worry. There's nothing that can be done about it, after all, and until now it wasn't affecting me day-to-day." Much. His joints had still ached just the same as Anduin's did, but that was... normal. For both of them. It wasn't... special diets and drug cocktails and spending nights at a time with the Emerald Circle while they tried to soothe his angry immune system away from attacking his liver, like it was now; or his heart, like they were worried it would begin to.

Anduin scowled at him through his tears. "Wrathion, for someone who gets on _me_ so much about locking my worries away and not letting anyone keep me company through them, you're an awful hypocrite."  
"That's different," Wrathion said, though he knew it wasn't. "You've only a short time on this world, after all, and we must do what we can to make it comfortable--"  
"Wrathion, don't you get it?!" Anduin gripped his fists by his sides. "So do  _you_ , now! That's the entire point!"

Wrathion paused. There was, indeed, the chance that he may now end up passing before Anduin. And that upset more or less every assumption they'd made about their relationship, going forwards. Even the Green Flight medics who had been working on his case had admitted they didn't know how his condition was going to progress. It was rather unique to him, after all; a result of his similarly unique method of creation. And usually, supernatural chimeras like him had been created by his uncle Nefarian as mere experiments, or guardians for his mountain... and didn't live long enough to learn of the internal consequences for their forced existences.

"Yes, well." He grimaced. "We'll deal with that when we come to it, I think. After all, we've still no guarantee that one or both of us shan't die at the hands of Sargeras."  
Anduin sniffed, rubbing the back of his sleeve across his face. "Yeah."  
"Speaking of which, when's our next war meeting--"  
"Will it hurt you if I hug you?"  
"What?"  
Anduin sniffled again, and rubbed at his cheek with his other sleeve. "Don't make me say it again."  
"...it shouldn't, no," Wrathion lied.

He didn't regret doing so as Anduin wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, squeezing. Wrathion could feel his heartbeat - quick and strong. Regarding whether it would stop before his own or not... he didn't know what to wish for.


	10. Meeting at group therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: mentally ill wrathion, mentally ill anduin  
> warnings: ableism, forced therapy, forced institutionalisation/hospitalisation

Wrathion had always been skeptical about group therapy. But he'd tried almost everything else, and his therapy team - Rhea, Cora, and Mo - had made it reasonably clear to him that he didn't have a choice about coming, and he might end up being sectioned again if he missed too many meetings. He hated them all, and the amount of control they had over his life. But he wasn't stupid. So he turned up.

At least it wasn't Cora leading the meeting. She was the worst.

Wrathion didn't mind the other patients too much, as long as they didn't try to touch him. Or talk to him. Or ask him about his experiences. They all had their own problems, that was true; he didn't like to antagonise them needlessly, especially considering he knew a good number of them had about as much desire to be there as he did.

He got paired with a small blond person for a pair activity. Not that they were... short. They were almost an entire head taller than Wrathion. They just seemed small, somehow. Maybe it was the oversized hoodie, or the way they held their shoulders tensed up. The two of them were supposed to be doing a role play of some kind; but Wrathion hated those, so he just cut across their first attempt at speaking.

"So what's your name?"  
"...uh..." they rubbed their upper arm with the opposite hand, "in the scenario, or..?"  
"I don't care about the scenario."  
They breathed out, seemingly relieved. "Anduin."  
"I'm Wrathion." He glanced over at the meeting supervisor, who was eyeing them carefully, then offered his hand to shake like they were supposed to be doing in the role play. Anduin seemed to understand, and shook it.

"These meetings are absurd, aren't they?"  
"This is my first one."  
"Mine too. 'Role play'. Ridiculous."  
Anduin chewed their lip a little. "My father said I should give it a try before dismissing it."  
"Yes, well, my therapy team told me I'd be looking at permanent state custody if I didn't improve, so you'll excuse my bitterness."  
Anduin frowned. "...yes, I think I will. That's cruel. Why are they threatening you when they should be trying to make you feel safe?"  
Wrathion shrugged. "It's not like I ever attacked anyone  _else_ , and I know plenty of people who did who are still walking free."

But he had to admit... Anduin understanding him, instead of immediately moving to antagonise him,  _did_  make him feel a little more comfortable. And that wasn't something he could say he'd experienced very often. "Say," he said after a little pause, "you seem to have your head on straight, unlike so many supposed 'sane' doctors I've met. Would you like to meet up outside of therapy some time? Of course, if I'm too much of a  _scary crazy_  for you," he grinned, wriggling his fingers to denote just how ridiculous the concept was, "you're free to decline."  
"No, I think I would like to speak to you elsewhere sometime. This environment is... weird," they said, scratching their cheek.  
"Very well. They haven't confiscated my phone yet this month, so I'll give you my number once we're out of here."

Somehow, neither of them ended up regretting coming - though it was debatable whether that was because of the therapy itself, or simply having found each other's company.


	11. Meeting at masquerade ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

It was traditional in Stormwind, and most of the other human regions, to hold a masquerade ball on Hallow's End. Stormwind's in particular had been put on hold for the last two years, out of respect for both King and Prince being away in Pandaria; so this was the first time one had been held in a while. Accordingly, the people were very excited about it - it was one of the few times that the wider palace was open to visitors, as opposed to just the front reception areas. And on top of that, they got to see their Prince home and well again.

That was... for a certain measure of well. And for a certain measure of "seeing him". It _was_ a _masquerade_ ball, after all.

Anduin's costume was an elaborate white jacket trimmed with bright red feathers, the longest of which gathered at the back to flow out into a knee-length train. His mask was to match - fashioned after the visage of the Crane of Hope, Chi-Ji. Some of Anduin's Pandaren friends had helped him put it together. They thought it suited him.

Given not many of Stormwind's citizens had been to Pandaria, Anduin wasn't expecting many people to recognise who he was dressed to resemble. Chi-Ji was a vitally important figure in Pandaria itself, and small trinkets in reverence to him had been spreading across the world since the Alliance and Horde had made landfall there... but not many people actually knew what they were for, besides that they were supposed to bring hope. Anduin thought that was sad, and he told people about Chi-Ji when he could. But overall, he didn't expect people to recognise his costume.

So he was _very_ surprised to see that there was someone else dressed as a Celestial there, too.

Bright blue whiskers painted onto the man's dark skin stood out brightly, as did the cat-shaped mask covering the upper portion of his face. Rich deep blue cloth with cyan stripes made up the majority of his jacket, with bright white spikes coming from the shoulders to mimic fur. And, like Anduin, his costume had a tail - though his was furred, not feathered.

Anduin tried to channel the dignified and regal air of the bird he was dressed as, as well as the Prince he was meant to be, as he approached the stranger. In truth, though, he felt a little like an excited puppy.

"Greetings, Mighty Tiger," he addressed, and bowed. He didn't worry about how deep it was - part of the entire idea of a masquerade ball was that everyone's rank was equal, if only for one night.  
The man looked mildly surprised, then a grin spread across his face. His teeth were sharp, too, like a tiger's. Either it was a very good glamour, or he... wasn't as human as Anduin had thought at first. The man bowed back, though. "It's good to see you, Great Crane."  
"I'm surprised to see you here in Stormwind."  
"I had _hoped_ to see the remarkable costumes they could come up with," the man dressed as Xuen grinned.  
Puns, was it? Anduin could certainly work with _that_. He grinned back. "Well, I'm just glad I had the _strength_  to get here."

The man's face lit up, and they chatted for what seemed like hours. Anduin only wished he'd known his real name...


	12. Brand new neighbours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: autistic wrathion, dyspraxic anduin, chronic pain anduin  
> warnings: violent ableism discussion, violent racism discussion, police brutality discussion, child harm discussion

Wrathion had always been suspicious of white people. And cops.

The people who had moved in next door were both.

Well, the adult was a cop, at least. He wasn't white. But he  _was_  a cop, and Wrathion knew that he'd just as soon throw Wrathion into a holding cell against his will for 12 hours than he would shake his hand.

And the kid wasn't a cop, but he  _was_  white, at least enough that he probably never had to deal with the same things Wrathion did. He had blond hair and freckles and big, blue eyes.

Wrathion watched them out of his bedroom window every day, trying to tell if they were the kind of people who would lend you milk, or the kind of people who would call the cops if you played your music loud, even during the day. Or the kind of people who would lend you milk one day and then call the cops the next anyway.

"We don't get to choose our neighbours," his foster father Fahrad had said, when Wrathion raised his concerns with him. "We're just going to have to hope they turn out to be nice people, and deal with it if they aren't."

Fahrad didn't understand, either. He'd been arrested once, and he'd been released a couple of hours later none worse the wear. Wrathion had been arrested a lot. He was, after all, a brown child who was ten but looked fifteen, had meltdowns a lot, and screamed when people touched him. It had never gone so smoothly for him.

The turning point on his opinion of the neighbours was when the kid accidentally kicked his football over into their garden, and happened to see Wrathion up in his bedroom.

"Hey!" He shouted up, waving and smiling. "Hey, can you come down and pass me my ball?"  
Wrathion wanted to say 'no'. He regarded the boy coldly, but found himself standing up from his windowsill and heading down the stairs anyway.

The neighbour seemed to have given up hope of Wrathion actually coming down until he saw him appear out of the side door. "Oh! Hi!"  
"Hello," Wrathion said.  
"My name's Anduin," he said, standing on tip-toe to see over the fence. "My ball's over there."  
Wrathion looked around, then spotted it on top of one of the bushes growing by their tree. It was blue, with a yellow lion pattern on it. He walked over and picked it up, then walked back over to the fence and passed it over to Anduin.  
"Thanks!" Anduin grinned. "Say, what's your name? I don't think I saw you at school or anything."  
Wrathion's natural instinct was to be defensive. "I'm Wrathion. I'm home schooled."  
"Oh, right! Are you disabled then?"  
Wrathion raised an eyebrow. He actually knew about disabilities..? "Yes."  
"Oh! Me too, sometimes," Anduin smiled. "I have to stay home from school and get tutored on bad days, but most of the time it's okay."

Wrathion regarded him carefully. "...I'm Autistic," he said, slowly. "I don't like teachers."  
"I just have a pain problem," Anduin said, adjusting his grip on the fence so he could stay looking at Wrathion. "And dyspraxia. So I'm clumsy at sports." He grinned again. "Like throwing balls inside my own yard instead of into yours."  
Wrathion found himself giggling. "You're bad at sports and I'm bad at people."  
"You don't seem bad at people to me," Anduin said. "You just seem shy. Do... you wanna play ball  _with_  me?"

Wrathion considered it for a moment. He wanted to say 'no' just out of distrust, but... he  _was_  lonely. And if he made friends with Anduin, then maybe he'd be able to trust him better.

"Okay."


	13. Meeting online

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

"Are you lecturing me? You've been playing for what, two months?"  
"Two months and a  _half_! It is your  _loot_."

They'd been playing together in the same guild for only two weeks, and already there were rumours about them dating.

Anduin was the Discipline priest; patient and sweet, and always with a good word to say about everyone. He'd been healing for the guild for several months before Wrathion had showed up. He'd started as an Arms warrior, but been forced to respec Protection once their main tank had left suddenly. And Anduin had been assigned as his healer.

At first, it seemed like they were arguing. And maybe they were. Wrathion stood in an awful lot of area-effect attacks, and Anduin was continually forced to use his cooldowns on him to save his behind.  
"Are you stood in fire? Again?!"  
"Fire cannot kill a dragon!"  
"You're not playing a  _dragon_ , Wrathion, for the last time! And whatever you are, you were about to become toast!"

But as the raid nights went by, their arguments became more like banter, and, eventually, their banter became more like flirting. They developed a strange kind of synergy - Wrathion had worked badly with almost every other healer he'd been paired with, but not Anduin.

If nothing else, they seemed to understand each other.


	14. Meeting at a coffee shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: mentally ill wrathion  
> warnings: ableism implied, transphobia implied, racism loosely implied, police mention (police brutality implied)

"What are the chances of two strangers ordering the exact same drink," the barista said with a grin, "and the exact same nickname? Here."

She passed forwards two caramel mochas, both labelled as "Your Highness". Only, one was labelled underneath with (long curly), and the other with (short blond).

The two men looked at the drinks, then each other.

"Would you like to sit together too, then?" asked Short Blond, grinning.  
"I don't see why not. It can't be any worse than sitting on my own, surely." He smirked. He was ready to eat his words if he needed to, but he rather hoped, given how... well...  _pretty_ Short Blond was, that he wouldn't need to.

They introduced themselves with their proper names once they'd sat down. Short Blond's real name was Anduin, and Long Curly's real name was Wrathion. Anduin did remark on how apt a nickname Long Curly was for Wrathion, though - "your hair's wonderful," he said. "I love the red streaks. They're dyed in, right..?"  
"Yes, but over the top of natural bleaching," Wrathion said, preening. "Is yours dyed, too, then?"  
"No," Anduin laughed, breathing over his drink then taking a sip. "Didn't the freckles give it away? I'm a natural blond."

They stayed in silence for a little while, working through their drinks.

"It's cold out recently, isn't it?" Anduin said eventually, breaking the silence.  
"I don't normally have hot drinks while I'm out," Wrathion responded. "I can make them myself at home just fine. But I felt like my hands were going to drop off if I didn't get something warm into them, and I didn't much fancy my chances with the hot coals from the mock fireplace in the centre of the marketplace." He grinned. It made Anduin's heart flutter.

"I think that might have burned your pretty gloves if you'd done that," Anduin said carefully, eyeing them. Wrathion had taken them off and placed them on the table while they drank; they were white cloth of some kind, with beautiful golden swirls embroidered into them.  
"I didn't make  _these_  myself," Wrathion commented. "But I know the woman who made them, if you'd like a similar pair."  
"I'd love that! Does she have a phone number or..?"  
"Sure. Although I'd rather have hoped you'd have asked for mine first."

Anduin hesitated, then laughed. "Yes, I should've, shouldn't I? I was hoping to ask you out..."  
"Already?" Wrathion feigned surprise. "And there was me thinking we should flirt by text for at least a month, first."  
"I actually prefer to be a little more direct. I know I seem quite shy..." Anduin smiled, glancing up deliberately coyly, and it was Wrathion's turn to blush.

"Well, I'll give you my number," Wrathion nodded. "And my facebook. So you can check I'm not going to hurt you."  
"Do people accuse you of that regularly?" Anduin raised an eyebrow.  
"You'd be surprised how badly people see you when they learn you're a mentally ill transgender person with impulse control issues, yes."  
Anduin didn't flinch, or pause. "That's not very fair of them. And you're not... frightened of me? In that way? I'm just some random white guy," he added, with a nervous laugh.  
"A little," Wrathion admitted. "But if you have my facebook, I have yours too, don't I?"  
Anduin nodded. "I should say... My dad's a cop, but I don't agree with it, and I don't intend to go into his line of work. Just... putting that up front, too."  
"I trust you."

They exchanged contact details, and agreed to arrange a further meeting later on - in the same coffee shop, since it was a convenient location for both of them. And both of them hoped that something good might come out of their meeting - even if it was only one date.


	15. Nanny and single parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: autistic wrathion, autistic tiffin jr (anduin's child)  
> warnings: ableism

"Hey, Wrathion?"  
Wrathion pressed the phone closer to his ear with his shoulder, a shopping basket over one arm and a tiny hand curled around the finger of the other. "Yeah?"  
"Where are you two right now? It turns out I'm coming home early."  
"We're just in the supermarket. We'll be back in about half an hour, so you'll get to see Tiffin soon."

Wrathion looked down at the little one. Her bright ginger hair was the most striking thing about her - followed by her bubbly demeanour, and then by the fact she never talked. Wrathion certainly didn't mind that last part. She was possibly the most agreeable seven-year-old he babysat; although, their sharing of a neurotype helped at least a little.

"Tiffin, do you want to talk to your dad?"  
"Mm!" She nodded enthusiastically.

He passed the phone over. She took it in both of her small hands, then held it up to her ear with one, grasping the sleeve of Wrathion's coat with the other again.

Wrathion couldn't hear what Anduin was saying, but he could hear Tiffin's little hums and giggles in response. He was glad to know that such a pleasant child got on so well with her equally pleasant father.

The phone call finished with Tiffin handing the phone back to Wrathion, and Wrathion saying goodbye to Anduin. And the shopping trip ended without incident. Wrathion always found supermarkets a little overwhelming, but Tiffin didn't seem to mind them - in fact, she even seemed to like pressing her ear up against the humming refrigerator units which gave Wrathion a headache, and humming along with them. Despite not agreeing with her, he thought it was... well. Adorable.

The drive home was a short fifteen minutes, and Tiffin jiggled up and down in her seat the entire time. She practically leapt out of her seat once the car stopped in the Wrynn's driveway, and charged up to the front door, flapping her hands in anticipation of getting inside and unpacking all the shopping they'd fetched. Oh, and seeing her father, of course.

So it was with her clinging to Anduin's waist that Wrathion spoke to him next.

"What's your schedule like for the rest of the week?"  
"All late nights, which is why they sent me home early today. I'm so sorry about this."  
"Not at all. After all, you're paying me quite handsomely," Wrathion grinned wryly. "And Tiffin isn't much of a bother at all."  
Anduin lit up. "You really don't think so? So many of the agencies said such nasty things about Autistic children. It's not fair," he added pointedly, knowing Tiffin could hear and not wanting to plant a single seed of doubt in her head about her existence.  
"Well, I do rather hope I can be fair to children who deserve fairness."

Then, he looked down at Tiffin, and grinned wickedly. "At least, when it comes to important things. When it's chess, that's another matter."


	16. Lab partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: PDA mention, i also want to warn for Sabellian talking about how he finds PDA disgusting but i didn't know how to put that in a concise tag sorry

Sabellian  _loathed_  placing partners together. They were always horribly chatty, and never got their work done. And they usually kissed over the lab bench. Which was a horrific breach of lab safety code, and, on top of that, disgusting. He was here to teach chemistry, not to watch teenagers "making out".

But the look of sheer  _hope_  Anduin Wrynn had on his face when he asked, please,  _please_  to be allowed to pair with Wrathion, they'll do the best projects in the  _whole class_ , please... he just couldn't bring himself to disappoint the boy.

Not least because he'd hear about it from his  _own_  boyfriend, who happened to be Anduin's father, if he didn't keep him happy.

-

"Just how did you manage to spin this? He  _never_  puts romantic partners together. Or... friends, usually."  
"I just asked him." Anduin beamed.  
Wrathion narrowed his eyes. "...witchcraft," he muttered, then his face split into a grin.

They  _did_  work very well together. Wrathion had all the theoretical knowledge, and although Anduin was clumsy, he was conscientious. Their practicals produced perfect results; their write-ups, dictated by Wrathion and written down in Anduin's careful handwriting, were as diligent as they were technically perfect. And Sabellian couldn't even get them on safety violations - Anduin's cautious nature meant he corrected the mistakes Wrathion usually made with those things.

It drove Sabellian up the  _wall_.

And that made Wrathion  _very_  amused indeed.


	17. Exes meeting again years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: poly wranduin as endgame  
> warnings: arguing, breakup, reconciliation

Years. Years went by without a single letter. Not even a note. Not even-- not even a face shown at a public gala. And now he was here at his door.

"What..." Anduin breathed, trying to calm himself. "What the  _fuck_ , Wrathion?"  
"Please, listen--"  
"No, you listen to me! Not a single letter or anything!  _Years_! We defeated the Legion without you, I got  _married_  without you! And now-- when everything's over! Suddenly you show up! What the fuck!"  
"It had to be this way."  
"No it didn't!"

Anduin hated how he tended to cry at every little thing, but he supposed this wasn't a little thing. He felt hot, angry tears rolling down his face as he stepped forwards on his cane, using his free hand to jab an accusing finger at Wrathion's chest. "It didn't have to be this way at  _all_! You could have let me in! You could have let me  _help_! We could have worked  _together_  like  _brothers_ , like you  _promised_ , Wrathion! You promised! But you were never there!"

Wrathion's expression was quiet, humble, but resolute. "You still love me, Anduin Wrynn."  
Anduin gave an incredulous laugh. "Do I really?"  
"Maybe a little. There might still be some spark there, deep down."  
"What the fuck are you getting at?!"  
"If you'd come with me, there wouldn't be."

Anduin sneered. "I'd like to have decided that for myself, but you didn't give me a choice!"  
"Because it was my choice," Wrathion said, his voice as hard and emotionless as granite. And, like granite, it was volatile, passionate lava that had long since cooled. "It was my choice whether to let you close to me. I chose not, because I knew you would loathe me by the time we were done."  
"I loathe you anyway!" Anduin found himself spitting, his fists balled by his sides. But it wasn't the burning, righteous fury of the Light that was pouring out of them, pooling by his feet on the ground. It was the hurt, bitter Shadow. "You abandoned me when I needed your love the most! You  _LEFT_  me!"  
"Then at least," Wrathion said, slowly, enunciating every syllable, "I didn't have to watch that change occur."  
"You're a coward, Wrathion."  
Wrathion raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I am. Is this supposed to be news?"  
"A wretched coward! And then you show up here-- why? To try and win me back?! Get out of my sight!"

Wrathion raised his chin. "Why, yes," he said. "Of course."

-

It was two weeks later, and Anduin had changed his mind.

He didn't want to write a letter. He'd written hundreds of letters to Wrathion with no indication any of them had ever actually reached him. And he knew Wrathion loved theatrics. So he simply hung a white handkerchief by his window, like a surrender flag. A request for negotiation.

For two days, there was nothing, and on the dawn of the third day Anduin was almost bitter enough to take it down. He stood there, his arms folded and tears running down his cheeks yet again; every time he reached out to remove it, he hesitated, just in case. He was being silly, and he knew it.

Or... rather. Assumed it. Because it was on the dawn of the third day that there was a polite knock on his balcony door.

Anduin rushed over to it, daring to hope - and there he was. The same as before - humble, but resolute.

It was completely obnoxious. And it was exactly what Anduin needed to see.

He opened the door and offered Wrathion inside. It wasn't raining yet, but stormclouds were looming over the ocean and Anduin didn't want to seem inhospitable. That wasn't what this was about, after all.

"Good morning," Wrathion said, and bowed. "King Wrynn."  
"Good morning, Black Prince." Anduin's voice was raw. Mostly from only having just woken up, to be fair.  
"You wished to speak with me?"  
"I did."

There was a long pause. Wrathion said nothing, did nothing.

"Why did you take three days?"  
"It took me three days to get here."  
"...you really went so far away?"  
"You said you didn't wish to see me. I took that statement seriously."

Anduin found himself smiling, just a little. If there was one thing to be said in Wrathion's favour, it was that he had  _always_  respected Anduin's boundaries. "Thank you for that. I... what I said three days ago. When I said it, I meant it."  
Wrathion nodded slowly.  
"...but I don't now. And... I'd like to see if we could be friends again. Now this is over."  
"Why the change of heart? It's not as though I've done anything particularly remarkable to show I've changed mine, after all," Wrathion said, cautiously. "If I needed to do it again, I would."  
"I know. And... maybe some of it's just nostalgia for what we had, before. All those years ago."  
Wrathion seemed to weigh that up, finding it plausible.  
"...but I also realised it was unfair of me to hold you to personal standards when you were acting under professional ones. You've always been so good about respecting when I don't want to see you, without any bitterness, and no matter the reason. It's not right of me to withhold the same respect. Maybe we can't be first lovers if you can't put me ahead of your professional life, but... I think we could certainly be friends again, and maybe second lovers if we feel like it."

Wrathion finally met Anduin's gaze. For a flicker of a moment, Anduin thought he saw a shimmer of what once lay behind those eyes - youthful, alacritious excitement. It was gone as quickly as it came, but... it was there, Anduin was sure of it.

"I think we should start from the beginning," Wrathion said, clasping his hands in front of himself. "You should invite me to dinner next week so I can meet your family."  
"And you'll... actually come?" Anduin thought of all the unanswered invitations, the lost love-letters.  
"I will." Wrathion nodded. "I give you my word."

And for the first time in years, Anduin felt something other than bitter disappointment when thinking of the Last Black Dragon. He felt hope.


	18. Meeting on a train ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)
> 
> also the lady sat across the table from Anduin is Tess ok

The train started with a jolt, and the handsome man with the messy blond hair sat across the aisle from Wrathion spilled his coffee.

"Oh! Sh--" He scrambled to stand up and stem the flow with the single napkin he had, the dark-haired lady across the table giving him a polite and sympathetic smile as she stood up out of the way of the liquid rapidly spreading towards her. Sure enough, it spilled over the edge and onto the seat just after she got out of the way.

The handsome man was clearly having trouble cleaning up the coffee, so Wrathion leaned over and offered him the box of tissues he kept in his bag. "Here."

"Oh--!" He gave a breathless laugh. "Thank you, thank you--" he focussed on cleaning the mess, then offered to swap seats with the lady so she could sit in the dry one. She thanked him, though he paused before sitting down in the seat that meant  _he_  now had to use.

"You know, I'm getting off in two stops' time," Wrathion offered. "You can take my seat."  
"What-- really?" He handed back the box of tissues, clutching his half-empty coffee cup in the other hand. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose any more than I already have..."  
"I just offered you, didn't I? I wouldn't call it imposing if it's simply accepting an invitation. And as I say, it's only two stops."  
"Thank you so much..."

The man got settled into his new seat, and Wrathion, one hand casually on the overhead crossbar, hovered nearby with his eyes on the train door.  
"So, um..." the man awkwardly addressed Wrathion, "what's your name, sorry? You've been so helpful..."  
"Wrathion," he blinked, a little taken aback that the blond was actually interested in him. "My name's Wrathion."  
He was used to comments on how unusual his name was, but the man didn't give one. He just smiled. "My name's Anduin. It's good to meet you, Wrathion." He hesitated. "...could... I make it up to you, sometime? With... coffee, maybe?"  
Coffee? "And you won't spill it this time?" Wrathion smirked.  
"No," Anduin laughed. "No, I won't."  
"Alright." Wrathion smiled, slightly bemused. "Coffee."


	19. Long distance relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: neurodivergent anduin, wheelchair user anduin, autistic wrathion  
> warnings: familial abuse

>  _Hey, are you going to be online today?_  
>  _I don't know. My aunt wanted me for something._

Anduin didn't like to admit the way that made him breathe in, uneasy. That was never good news.

>  _Well, I'll probably be around when you get back! I'm staying home today, so I can be there whenever. Let me know!_

Anduin put his phone down. By far the hardest thing about this wasn't the lack of being able to touch or kiss his boyfriend when he wanted, although those were thing he missed dearly from the times when the person he was dating lived a few miles away and not across the country. It wasn't the lack of being able to drop by with surprises, or the lack of being able to share his cooking, or the lack of being able to share a bed.

It was the lack of being able to help Wrathion when his family were putting him through hell. The lack of ability to offer him a safe place away from all that. The lack of ability to hold him and keep him physically safe from them, as well as doing his best to give him an emotional refuge.

He rolled over and pulled the blankets up over his shoulder. Worrying about it wouldn't help the pain which was keeping him in bed today, and it wouldn't help Wrathion, either. So there was no point in doing it extensively.

He dozed off for a little while, letting his mind drift to other things. He thought he'd managed to stop concerning himself overly about it - until his phone rang and, regardless of the searing agony in his joints, scrambled to pick it up as quickly as possible.

"Anduin?"  
It was his father. Damn...  
"Hi, Dad."  
"...Wrathion's in trouble again, isn't he."  
"...yeah." His father was far too good at picking up on that. It was the way he picked the phone up in record time, he'd explained, once.  
"Well, you know what I said before. I wouldn't wish that awful aunt of his on anyone. He can come and stay with us any time."  
"Yeah, but it's the money, Dad, you know? Flights are expensive, and we're not even sure he'd be able to make the trip on his own, what with his autism and everything..."  
"Mm." It wasn't a particularly defeated sound. Anduin wondered if his father was even really listening.  
"What were you calling about, Dad?"  
"To let you know I'm sending Jaina around to take care of you today. She still had a day of holiday left, so she's going to help you get fed and so on."  
"Alright. She's got keys and everything, yeah?"  
"Yes."  
"Okay. I'll see you when you get home, then."  
"That's the other thing. I'm working late tonight, so you might not see me. But you can always call me if you're getting worse."  
"I know, Dad. Thanks."  
"Alright. See you later."  
"Bye."

Anduin flopped back in bed. He should've been able to get straight back to sleep, with how lethargic he felt from the pain medication, but something was preying on his mind. His father hadn't sounded too worried about the impossibility of Wrathion visiting them... and that either meant he wasn't paying attention to what was being said, or he had a plan in mind. What sort of plan could he possibly have? Had he been saving money... for Wrathion? Or was it something else?

He brought a sluggish hand up to rub at his forehead, sighing. He guessed he'd have to wait for his cryptic father to explain.

-

"I've got a birthday surprise for you," Wrathion said, his voice as smug as anything even down the phone line.  
"Oh, really?" Anduin sounded amused. "Is it a parcel or something, then?"  
"Kind of. It should arrive later today."  
"And you won't tell me what it is at all?"  
"Nope. It's all very hush-hush, you know."  
"Fine~. Oh! I have to go, I'm supposed to be going out to lunch."  
"Alright. I love you, Anduin Wrynn."  
"I love you too! Bye!"

Anduin slung his backpack over the back of his chair, did up the zip on his hoodie, and wheeled himself out to the car.

They drove into town... and then they drove out of town again. Anduin glanced in the rear view mirror at his father, only to find he was smirking widely, apparently at Anduin's realisation that they'd gone past most of the restaurants they could have stopped at for lunch. Jaina, in the passenger seat, was doing the same thing. Weird...

Anduin tried to think if there was some special place out of town where they could eat, some favourite restaurant of his that he'd forgotten about because they hadn't been there for so long - but there was nothing.

"Father..?"  
"Yes?"  
"Where  _are_ we going?"  
"Oh, you'll see soon."

Anduin raised an eyebrow. He trusted his parents to know what he liked, so he wasn't too frightened of the surprise--

\--surprise. SURPRISE. No--  _no_. No  _way_. It couldn't be.

"F-Father?!"  
"Yes?"  
"Are we going to the airport?!" He was grinning.  
"Maybe~."  
"Oh my God!"

He could barely wait for the back door of the car to be opened when they arrived. He wheeled himself down and waited with Jaina while his dad pulled the car around, flapping one hand to keep from jiggling in his chair. He wanted to express his excitement without hurting himself, after all.  
"Where are we going, Aunt Jaina?"  
"Arrivals," Jaina smiled.  
Anduin's eyes lit up. "He-- he's really here??"  
"You can see for yourself in..." she checked her watch, "fifteen minutes."

Anduin pressed both hands to his face. He guessed there was probably no point texting Wrathion if he was that close... but he did so anyway.  
>  _"Surprise"? Understatement!_  
He didn't expect a reply, so he pocketed his phone and put his hands back on the wheels as his father approached from across the car park, gesturing for them to head inside.

He could barely sit still as they waited for the relevant flight. He was as nervous as he was excited - what if Wrathion didn't like him after they'd met in person..? Wrathion knew all about his disabilities, and he'd seen pictures before, obviously, even seen him on video call - but what if the reality was different..?

All his worries evaporated when he finally saw the short, dark-faced man, wrapped up in a hoodie and a coat to guard him against the new climate and clutching his hand luggage. He was accompanied by a taller man - one of his brothers, Anduin recognised, but he wasn't sure which one because they both looked more or less identical - who immediately moved off to have a short chat with Anduin's father before heading off on his own. Either way, Wrathion spotted Anduin and immediately perked up, even from what must have been a tiring flight.

Anduin couldn't hold himself back either, dashing over as quick as his arms could move him. "Wrathion!"  
"Did you like the surprise, then?"  
"Come here." Anduin held his arms up, and Wrathion gladly obliged, leaning down to hug him tightly.

At some point, Anduin started crying, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Wrathion even  _smelt_  perfect. He was here. He was really, really here.  
"How long are you staying?" he mumbled, into Wrathion's shoulder.  
"As long as your father allows me to."  
"Wh-- What?" Anduin pulled back, sniffing and wiping at his face, to look at Wrathion.  
He was grinning. "As long as your father allows me to. He's letting me stay in the empty flat in the basement."  
So  _that's_ what his father had been so secretive about... Anduin was completely overcome, wanting to hug everyone all at once. He laughed, happy, wiping more tears away from his cheeks. "Really? You're not kidding?"  
"Not kidding."  
"When's your stuff coming?"  
"Sabellian's driving it up now. He'll get here tomorrow. He's staying in the other room of the flat."  
So that meant the man here  _now_  was Nefarian, then. Anduin was suddenly glad he'd taken off. "And that's... alright?"  
"Sabellian's alright," Wrathion reassured. "Compared to everyone else, at least."  
"Not very reassuring, but I trust you."

Anduin became aware of a warm hand cupping his cheek, and looked up at Wrathion's face to see him smiling. "A kiss..?" he asked, softly.  
Anduin grinned, happy tears still marking his face. "I want nothing more in the world."


	20. Childhood best friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

"Ugh! I forgot my jacket!"  
"I know. I brought you a spare one."

Anduin handed over the heavy coat with a smile, and Wrathion gave him a small one back.

They'd known each other since they were children. Wrathion had been a tiny whelp that Onyxia had brought to Stormwind Keep when, briefly, she'd asserted her true presence as a dragon over its unfortunate populace; Anduin, ten years old at the time, had hated most of the whelp she'd brought. But something about Wrathion had seemed different. They'd befriended each other, supported each other through the turbulent times that ensued, and grown up together.

Now, they were in their twenties, and taking a walk together through the forest. Wrathion had forgotten his jacket. But it didn't matter, because he always forgot his jacket when there was something on his mind. Anduin remembered, and brought a spare one for him. The dragon got very sick if he got cold.

"What's the matter, then?" Anduin asked. "I assume you wanted to talk about something in particular."  
"Yes. Ahh, assuming you're alright speaking of the same, of course. If not I'm quite content simply to take a walk with you." He breathed out; his hot breath smoked, despite the temperature outside being nowhere near freezing.  
"What is it?" Anduin looped his arm around Wrathion's as they started to walk.  
"It's about the nature of our relationship."  
"Go on."  
"Well, lately I've been wondering if we're truly friends." Anduin stiffened against Wrathion's arm a little, but Wrathion laid a reassuring hand over Anduin's forearm. "And not something else, instead of that."  
"Something... else..?"  
"Yes, though I'm not sure what. I must confess, my most foremost emotion regarding you lately has been the desire to kiss you."

Anduin was blushing, though Wrathion couldn't tell if it was just due to the mild chill in the air. "Well... I have to admit," he said, blushing more (certainly not due to the cold, then), "that I've been feeling similarly... but I didn't want to bring it up without knowing if you felt the same."  
Wrathion grinned, at that. "Well, I just did so, didn't I?"  
Anduin laughed, easily. "Yes, you did."  
"So, then... perhaps we should try it for a little while? Kissing. Maybe a little something else, if the mood takes us so. And then we'll see how we feel about it after all that."  
"I think I'd like that."

They stopped in a forest clearing, the weak shafts of fading autumn light brightening a halo in Anduin's hair and playing little golden rings among Wrathion's curls. And, gently, respectful of each other's comforts, they kissed.


	21. Meeting in prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: neurodivergent wrathion  
> warnings: imprisonment, hatred against homeless people, violent racism mention, forced therapy

They were both sat in the foyer. They were the only two being discharged, today. And waiting for desk workers to fill out paperwork for their release was the most boring thing Wrathion had ever done in his life.

More boring than spending a year rotting in a prison cell.

He looked at the other man. He had his back straight, his chin up, and he was looking straight ahead. Nervous, then; or something of the like at least.

"Hey," Wrathion said.  
The man didn't ignore him, to Wrathion's surprise. He looked at him and gave a kind-seeming smile. "Hi."

Another few moments of silence. "...so what did they get you in on?" Wrathion asked.  
"I fed a homeless man," the man said. "Several. Homeless people, actually. I was kind of running a soup kitchen. What about you?"  
"I ran a scam on the biggest military instalment in the state. Successfully, might I add. I cost the US military hundreds of thousands of dollars in outright costs, property damage, and personnel loss by way of resignments."

The other man's eyebrows raised. "And they're letting you _out_? Didn't they try and charge you with terrorism or something..?" Wrathion didn't miss the way he eyed his dark skin; his tightly curled hair, though it was cut short by prison regulation.  
"I happen to have a very good friend in the judicial system, in fact. After all, that's how the military get away with their atrocities, isn't it? It's only fair I be allowed to do the same thing." He grinned.

The other man seemed to think that was amusing, at least. "What are you going to do when you get out, then?"  
He shrugged. "I don't have much of a choice. I'm in mandatory outpatient care for my various mental quirks for four more years after this. At least I can sleep in my own bed and get myself a coffee when I want one, I say."  
"That does sound nice," the other man said ruefully. "I'm Anduin, by the way. Anduin Wrynn."  
"I'm William Prestor, but I'd really rather you called me Wrathion."  
"Oh my God, you're Robin Hood?" Anduin's face cracked into a genuine smile.  
"The one and only." It was a media nickname that had been given to Wrathion before his true name had been revealed; his record was, after all, impressive. Serial scams, all successful at the time, and all run on rich businessmen. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Anduin Wrynn."

Anduin's name was called first, and he waved, smiling, to Wrathion as he went through. And Wrathion found himself smiling, too - and thinking about perhaps giving the proceeds of his next scam to an illegal soup kitchen.


	22. Meeting again at high school reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: newly transitioned wrathion, genderfluid transfeminine anduin  
> warnings: transphobia discussion

"...oh my God, are you--"  
"Wrathion," he interjected, forcing a smile.  
"Oh, so--" The blond who had caught his arm breathed out and smiled, more genuinely. "No wonder."  
"What?" Wrathion raised an eyebrow dryly.  
"No wonder I didn't recognise you. I thought you were a party crasher at first, I'm so sorry!"

Funnily enough, Wrathion didn't recognise the person in front of him, either. It was to be expected, he supposed, considering he hadn't seen  _anyone_  here for almost ten years. He'd cut ties with most of everyone he'd met at high school. It was only from a heartfelt outreach from his old best friend, Anduin Wrynn, that he'd been encouraged to attend, and he hadn't even  _seen_ Anduin yet.

The person in front of him was tall, with long blond hair and a thousand freckles. They were wearing a particularly handsome blue dress, and were clutching a wine glass in one hand with what was undoubtedly fruit juice and not anything alcoholic. They were still smiling at Wrathion expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something.

"...yes, well." Another forced smile. "I'm not."  
"You look amazing," the mystery classmate said.  
"...thank you," Wrathion said carefully. "I like your dress. It's very. Blue."  
They laughed, then smirked. "You never were very good at compliments, even when you meant them."

Wrathion did a double-take. Compliments... there was only one person at school he'd ever complimented.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one who'd undergone a transition in the ten years since class finished.

His hand clapped itself over his mouth. "I-- I'm sorry! I didn't even  _realise_ \-- how  _stupid_  of me--"  
"No, it's really okay. It's not like I told you over text beforehand, like you did for me." They smiled kindly. "I still go by Anduin. But it's they-them-their, now."  
"And everyone else..."  
"I kept in touch with most of them, so they already knew." Their smile widened. "I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't know for sure you'd be safe here."  
Wrathion stared. Anduin had always been so considerate of Wrathion, even when Wrathion himself had failed - by ignorance or selfishness - to return the favour. He cleared his throat and smoothed down his shirt. "Thank you. And I meant what I said, by the way. I do like your dress. It looks good on you."  
"Thanks. Say, do you still mostly eat meat?"  
"Yes. I was just wondering where the _non_ -vegetarian foods were, actually."  
"They're right this way; let me show you."

Wrathion followed, a little dazed - and once again, even after ten years of not speaking to them once, feeling as though Anduin Wrynn was the person who understood him best in the entire world.


	23. Meet sitting on the same park bench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: cat owner anduin, dog owner wrathion  
> warnings: (none of note)

"So, which one's yours?"  
"Sorry?"  
Wrathion gestured to the thin leash clutched in the stranger's hand. "Which dog is yours?"  
The man smiled. "Actually, it's the cat."  
"What?"

He gestured upwards, the wind ruffling his blond hair faintly. Wrathion craned his neck up to see - and sure enough, there was a little black cat sat high in one of the trees. It had a bright blue harness-coat wrapped around its chest, but it didn't seem bothered by it. Or the height.

"Her name's Aerin. I called her after an old friend of mine. She's trained and everything."  
"She seems fairly remarkable," Wrathion said, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.  
"What about yours?" The man glanced at the thick cloth leash in Wrathion's hand.  
"She's actually just behind the bench," he shrugged with one shoulder. "Her name's Alex."

They both leaned over the back, looking at the sleeping dog.  
"She's very handsome," he commented. "Is she a red setter?"  
"Yes, we think, mixed with something else."  
"Is she trained?"  
"Not as well as your cat," Wrathion grinned. "But enough that she can be let off the leash, at least."

They sat quietly for a few moments, before the stranger spoke up again. "I'm Anduin, by the way."  
"Wrathion. Very pleased to meet you, Anduin."


	24. Partners in crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-on from meeting in prison AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: institutionalised hatred against homeless people

Anduin had definitely enjoyed meeting Wrathion.

He hadn't necessarily expected to be conspiring to commit further major crimes with him later that same month.

And, well. Okay, fair enough. It was definitely something Anduin thought shouldn't be a crime. His part of it, anyway. He was going right back to running that soup kitchen. The people of his city needed him, or someone doing his role at least, more than they needed any fancy masked superhero like the comics all said.

...kind of. As far as real life versions of masked vigilantes were concerned, he supposed the man sat across his desk from him was the closest he'd ever met.

"You don't need to concern yourself with the details of where I'll be going," Wrathion explained, tenting his fingers and smiling. "You know from my exemplary record, of course, that the source of these funds will be entirely ethical."  
Anduin couldn't help but laugh. "I love how your definition of everything is completely different than the generally agreed-on one..." After all, 'exemplary record' meant his extensive history of scamming thousands of dollars out of rich businessmen, and 'ethical sources' meant he was scamming people who could afford to lose the things they were having stolen.  
"Well, _you_ agree, don't you?"  
"I do." Anduin smiled.

"Then it's settled. You can tide yourselves over for the ten days?"  
"We can. I checked it out, and if Velen keeps helping out like he has been doing, I should be able to keep everything up and running."  
"Excellent. You can expect your cheque within the fortnight, then."  
"Thank you so much for this."  
"Oh, you can thank me when I'm done. After all, if I get caught again, I won't be helping you at all, will I?"  
Anduin was quietly confident that that wouldn't happen. But he nodded. "I understand. See you soon."

He ran his hand back through his hair, and, with a grin, contemplated his new role as apparent superhero sidekick.


	25. Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

>  _Can you pick up some juice for me?_  
>  _Alright._  
>  _And some sugar? I want to do baking._  
>  _Alright._  
>  _And a kiss?_

Wrathion paused, phone in hand.

> _Wrong number?_

A long pause.

He'd been living with his roommate for just over six months, now. And he was  _perfect_. So much so that Wrathion had, for a short while, suspected him of being a robot. Perfect, and attractive, and oh so very kind. Just occasionally far more flirtatious than Wrathion was used to.

Not that he was complaining, but he was aware it might come across that way.

Finally, the reply.

> _No._

Perfect, and attractive, and oh so very kind, and now wanting to kiss him too.

It was Wrathion's lucky day.


	26. Teacher and single parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: ableism

"Listen, I'm really sorry if Tiffin's been giving you any trouble. Our living situation isn't the most stable right now, and with all her disabilities - we can find another class for her if it's too much..."  
"It's quite alright, Mr Wrynn." Wrathion smiled evenly. "I find Tiffin to be a very good student, in fact."

"Really?" Anduin perked up. Wrathion thought he was one of the most dedicated parents he'd ever met - he was certainly one of the only ones with a genuine interest in how their child was really doing in school, and not simply in whether they were "succeeding" or "failing". And he was definitely Wrathion's favourite parent to talk to.  
"Really. She's interested in the subject matter, and she engages with it in a way that makes sense to her. I see no problem with that. Her standardised test scores aren't the best, but I don't think that makes her a bad student, necessarily. Although I'm very sure the government would have you believe otherwise."

The look on Anduin's face was hard to process, but it was definitely a positive one. "Well-- well then, do her test scores in this subject actually matter?"  
"I'm a history teacher, so no," Wrathion answered, with a smile. "I'm very glad to continue teaching your daughter, Mr Wrynn. Long may she live in ignorance of the standards those awful men want to hold her to."


	27. Fake relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: pre-and-post-transition wrathion, nonbinary wrathion, demiromantic anduin  
> warnings: misgendering, familial abuse, homophobia

It had started as a defence mechanism.

They'd both come from awful households. Anduin's mother had been murdered when he was very small, and his father had his custody rights revoked after a mental breakdown. He was left to be adopted by the worst woman he'd ever met: Katrana Prestor. Meanwhile, Wrathion had simply been raised by his birth father, Neltharion, the youngest in a brood of several and the least favourite out of all of them.

Anduin, of course, had to pretend to be straight. He wasn't. And Wrathion had to pretend, constantly, to be a girl. Which he wasn't.

Both of them knew this from an early age. And both of them thought they were the only one in the whole world.

They met at school, and they bonded over video games. Anduin liked RPGs, and Wrathion liked RTSs. They argued, light-heartedly, over which was best; and avidly consumed anything where the genres crossed into one another. They shared classes more often, visited each others' houses; and because the world thought Wrathion to be a girl, everyone thought it was adorable. But they told each other their truths, eventually, and found faith in each other.

They grew up, they passed school, and they remained living with their awful parents. Anduin began to visit with his father, behind Katrana's back; it gave him solace, reassurance that his identity as a gay man was valid, and hope for the future. Wrathion didn't have anywhere to go, but he was smart of mind and brave of heart, and he brokered a deal with his father. A bet, of sorts. If he - she, his father believed - could find a boyfriend; if even she, Willarmina, the runt and the loser of the family, could find a boyfriend - then his father would send payments to Wrathion, for the rent on their home, until such time as the couple could support themselves.

And that was when the plan was hatched.

"Anduin," Wrathion said, sitting on the floor with his back against Anduin's sofa and a game controller in his hands.  
Anduin responded after a short delay; he was sat on the sofa itself, holding the other controller. "Yeah?"  
"Will you be my boyfriend?"  
Anduin spluttered. "Wh-- What?"  
Wrathion turned to look at him, dead-on. "Not for real. My father's offered to pay rent for the first few months after I move out, but only if I get a boyfriend. He thinks I'm too pathetic to find one. Everyone thinks you're a perfect Christian straight white cis boy, with straight-A grades and good job prospects; just the kind of person he'd want me to see. And you want to move out too."  
Anduin frowned. "...and you really think we can pull this off?"  
Wrathion shrugged. "I don't see how most of what we do is different from what most couples do anyway. Minus the kissing and the sex."  
"We might have to do the... kissing, at some point. If we're really going to do this." Anduin swallowed nervously.  
Wrathion looked at him, seriously. "Do you think you could do that?"  
"...I could," Anduin nodded.  
"Then so could I."

They shook on it, and that was that.

For months, they fabricated Facebook dates while staying at Anduin's father's house to play games; sent each other affectionate status updates that they'd copied from romance novels. They went on walks to the park where they knew Wrathion's siblings would see, held hands. One time, finally, they kissed; Wrathion's father was furious, and beat him fiercely, but - miraculously - agreed to pay him the money anyway.

So they moved out, and in with each other. The grand trickery began. With their own internet connection, unmonitored by their respective hawkish abusers, they could begin to explore their truths. Anduin came to find that he wasn't simply gay, as he'd first thought - he was aromantic, too. And Wrathion found that his hesitance to call himself a man was due to his status as a nonbinary person, not due to his being a fraud and a fake like the high school health tutor he'd tried to come out to had said.

It lasted for three long, happy years. The happiest of their lives so far. That was, until their respective parents began hawking them about marriage.

"It's only right, you know," said Katrana, pausing to take a drag of something most certainly illegal as she nattered down the phone to a barely-listening Anduin. "A man and a woman living together like that for so long, people start to talk if they aren't married." Then she said something very rude; Anduin wrinkled his nose, and muted the phone's speaker.

"If he doesn't ask my permission I'll crush his throat," Wrathion's father growled down the phone. "He'd better."

Finally, caving under pressure, Anduin brought it up over dinner.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep off their hawking," he sighed, tugging at his hair. "What do we do..?"  
Wrathion shrugged. "We get married."  
Anduin wrinkled his nose. "Really? We just... cave in?"  
"Well, taxes-wise, it's actually beneficial to us. And we could certainly use the wedding presents at the moment, especially if we have the modest kind of ceremony my father likely expects out of us. Very proper, and all that."  
Anduin rubbed his chin. "I suppose so... and it would definitely get them off our backs. At least until they start asking for children."  
Wrathion quirked an eyebrow. "You know, if you ever do decide you'd like children, you should tell me and we'll look into adoption. It's something I've always wanted, and I can't see any reason why I shouldn't do it with you. Romance isn't a prerequisite for parenthood, after all," he drawled, transparently referencing their own parents - of both the fake legal, and real emotional, kind.  
Anduin genuinely considered that. "You know what? I think you're right. I'll think about it some more and get back to you."  
Wrathion nodded. "Good idea."

Two weeks later, Anduin got back to Wrathion on his emotionally flat proposal:  
"Yes."

They were going to get married. An aromantic homosexual man, and a closeted trans man - as man and wife. In order to swindle wedding gifts out of all the awful straight people their parents knew.

Incredible.


	28. Teacher and student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: wheelchair user anduin  
> warnings: (none of note)
> 
> note they're actually around the same age; the age gap's no bigger than it usually is (1-2 years in RL AUs)

Wrathion was a model Defence against Demons student. He'd aced every theoretical, passed every weapons check. He'd even completed every single extra credit option for the entire course. He'd fought hard to come here - he'd only been able to do so a few years late, too, what with having been in his father's controlling grasp until then - and he wasn't about to be forced to fail the entire course because of one ridiculous Holy Light Theory class.

But it certainly wasn't his strong suit. He couldn't grasp how positive emotions could be so strong as to manifest, and no matter how many lectures he'd attended, he simply could not understand it enough to pass the written assessment.

His professor, completely exasperated, had assigned him a fellow student to help tutor him through his revision sessions in the hopes that he might finally pass the assessment this time - the last time. It was the last opportunity of the year, and if he didn't pass it, there would be serious questions about whether he could join his classmates in graduation.

It was with no small dose of resentment that Wrathion attended the first session. He was expecting to get paired with some pushover who would ask him, like every other Light Theory teacher before them, to JUST FEEL the right answers to the test. He was prepared to shoot them down with as much snark as he could when he entered the room, closed the door behind him, and looked at who it was to be.

He was blond, sat in a wheelchair, and  _devastatingly handsome_.

...well. That didn't change things, Wrathion thought, squaring his jaw. If he was a metaphorical pushover, then he'd still have to be metaphorically pushed over.

"I take it you're my student?" He beamed.  
"...yes, I believe I am," Wrathion said, finding himself squirming a little where he was stood.  
"Well, come to the table, then! I won't bite."

Wrathion stepped up, pulled up a chair, and cautiously sat down opposite him.  
He smiled pleasantly. "I'm Anduin."  
"...I'm Wrathion." He knew his voice was full of distrust, and he also didn't care. Anduin seemed unphased regardless.

"Well, let's get started. I heard you're having trouble passing Light Theory?"  
"Yes."  
"I take it you can't use the Light, then?"  
"No."  
"Alright, that makes sense. How are you at rote learning?"  
"What?" Wrathion frowned. "I thought I needed to understand the  _beauty_ of the Light to get anywhere on this thing. That's what everyone else said, anyway."  
"Well... you're passing every other class, which means you probably don't  _need_  to understand Light Theory except for the written assessment. And it's like any other exam, even though most of the other teachers don't want to admit that. We can just figure out some rote answers for you to learn, and they should get you a passing grade."

Wrathion stared. Could this tutor... actually...  _help_  him?


	29. Writer & editor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

One more metaphor?”  
"No."  
"Just a little simile? Please?"  
"Abolutely not, Wrathion. I can hardly make heads or tails of this piece anyway."  
"You just don’t appreciate my prose style!"  
"You asked me to be your editor for a reason, and it’s that you wanted me to tell you what I thought other people would like to read. And I think most people generally like to read something they  _understand_ , so please cut back on the metaphors.”  
"…fine."

Wrathion always got in such a sulk in response to criticism, but, well, Anduin reasoned. He  _had_  asked for it… paid for it, in fact. So it was only fair that he got it.

He responded surprisingly well to it, even with the huffing and puffing, though. The next draft of the piece Anduin had originally reviewed was much clearer.

"…so you see," Anduin said, pointing to a place on the photocopier-quality print-out, "because you’re repeating the simile from earlier, it’s a lot clearer what’s going on. The one you had before was just a non-seqitur."  
"I  _suppose_  so.”

That was the other reason, of course, that Wrathion had chosen Anduin specifically to be his editor and not somebody else.

Anduin was the only one who could give Wrathion that ‘I told you so’ grin and not get punched for it.


	30. Costars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

"Are you not coming to my trailer tonight?"  
"Why, are you not coming to mine?"  
"No. Last time I was there it smelled awful."  
"It smelled of chocolate."  
"Like I said. Awful."  
"I'll come over to yours, if that's what you're asking."  
"Yes."

Anduin was used to Wrathion's frankly alarmingly blunt off-stage persona, by now. After all, this was the third season of the show that they were co-starring in together.

You'd never know it from watching him on the stage. He came alive like a spectacular firework in every role he played, from unpredictably charismatic heroes to scheming and unlikeable villains. Anduin himself was usually cast in a very narrow range of roles - heroes, and heroes' sons - but he loved to play a villain too, and this show was giving them both an opportunity to do bits of both.

Which was why they'd stayed on it for so long. That, and each others' company.

While Wrathion was dynamic on-screen, off it he was deadpan and down-to-earth. Frankly, that was something Anduin could appreciate a lot. Sometimes, like tonight, they just watched movies until they fell asleep on each other; other times, they stayed up until well past bedtime debating all sorts of things about the world in general (and their coworkers). The thing that amazed Anduin the most was that Wrathion, despite his flat and initially hostile-seeming mannerisms, seemed to bear no grudges about any of it regardless of what was said - not that Anduin took advantage of that whatsoever. He didn't  _want_  to. But he could admire that trait in a man.

It was strange, he thought; he'd first fallen in love with Wrathion's character, and now he'd fallen in love with him. And as far as he could tell, it was the same the other way around, as well.

The world sure worked in mysterious ways.


	31. Literally bumping into each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: wheelchair user anduin  
> warnings: head injury; implied that wrathion's had problems with medical staff in the past

It was Wrathion who hadn't been paying attention when, all of a sudden, he felt harsh metal at his hip and shin. He yelped, simultaneously with his falling over - literally into the lap of the man he'd run into.

"I--!" He grasped for something to hold onto and only found the rim of the wheel; instead of managing to push himself upright, he instead fell off his lap altogether. Probably for the best, although he _did_  hit his head quite hard on the ground. Groaning and rubbing at where he'd hurt, he looked up at the man sat in the wheelchair he'd tripped over.

"I'm-- sorry..." he trailed off as he took in the appearance of the stranger. He was very handsome, with golden blond hair and bright blue eyes which were filled with concern. "Did I hurt you?"  
"I should be asking you the same," the stranger said, bracing the wheels of his chair with one hand and offering Wrathion the other to help him up. "You seem like you hit your head pretty hard there."  
"I've had worse," he said, gladly accepting the help. "I'm very sorry about that."  
"It's fine, really. I'm not hurt any more than usual. Are you okay? You seemed pretty distracted..."

Wrathion lied, and smiled. "I'm just fine. Possible head injury notwithstanding."  
"Well, do you want to come with me to the doctor so you can get it checked out?"  
The man seemed so earnest, but Wrathion really wasn't in the mood to see a medical professional today. "I'd rather not. But I wouldn't mind accompanying you for coffee, if you're going to insist on keeping an eye on me."

The man seemed to perk up at that. "I definitely wouldn't mind! I'm not up to much right now. I was just heading home, but it's not like I'm on a deadline or anything."  
"Then it's settled. I'm Wrathion Prestor."  
"My name's Anduin Wrynn. Good to meet you."

Wrathion let Anduin lead the way, seeing as he was more likely to know the location of a coffee shop that would accommodate his wheelchair (which was very handsomely decorated, now Wrathion got a better look at it - deep blue steelwork with golden spokes on the wheels, and a lion sigil embossed onto the back of the chair). And although very embarrassed about the initial circumstance of their meeting, he would eventually come to be glad it had happened.


	32. Hidden, forbidden love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: homophobia mention, fantasy prejudice

"We can't, Wrathion. Definitely not in public! I'm sorry."  
Wrathion breathed out. He had to admit he was frustrated. It was Anduin's choice, of course, but something gave him the feeling Anduin wasn't really choosing. So he asked: "Why not?"  
"It's... you know."  
"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked."  
"It's just... the..."  
"I wasn't aware Stormwind had any homophobia. I thought _that_ was limited to Legion-touched societies. Was I incorrect?"  
"It's the  _dragon_  thing, Wrathion!"

Wrathion tried to hide how that hurt, and most of all, he tried to hide how it was - somehow, despite all his knowledge of how Onyxia had hurt Stormwind - surprising. But it didn't work. "Oh."  
"It's not-- I really like you, Wrathion, it's just--"  
"If you weren't attracted to me, you could have done me the courtesy of letting me down a little earlier."  
"It's not that! I really, really like you. It's-- I'm the  _prince_ , Wrathion. I can't just do what I like!"  
"Please don't lie to me, Prince Wrynn."  
"I'm not!!"

Anduin burst into tears, and Wrathion sat there, feeling numb and monstrous.

"I--! I could pretend to be a human, if you liked," Wrathion blurted out, straightening his back.  
"Wh--What?" Anduin sniffled, wiping at his face. "I could never ask you to do that, Wrathion..."  
"And that's why you're not asking me. I'm offering."  
Anduin shook his head, holding his hands close to his face still. "It's-- it's something you're so proud of, Wrathion, I--"  
"No. Not proud of. I tell people I'm a dragon because I'm frightened of how they'll react if I don't. Perhaps it's time to find out."

Anduin sniffed, rubbing his palm against his cheek again, staring at Wrathion.  
"I could get Lord Ravenholdt to name me as Stromgarde nobility," he continued, his hands balled into fists in his lap. "A member of a lost House. We've fabricated all sorts of things before now; I'm sure a few newspaper clippings and family trees wouldn't be out of the question. If you'd be alright with that, of course."  
"Wrathion, I-- I don't know. I... really, really want to date you. And be able to hold hands with you in public and-- maybe more than that. But I don't know if I could ask you to hide something like that from everyone..."

"Again, you're not asking. I'm offering." He stood up, and although he didn't feel it was right to kiss Anduin, he did gently reach for his hand. Anduin gave it, and gripped Wrathion's tightly. "...just. Give it some thought. If your answer's no, that's alright. But I do very much hope we could be together somehow."


	33. Meeting at a festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

Anduin loved the Festival of the Mists. It only happened every few years in his town, when the sea breeze and the mountain squalls met each other at just the right time of year - it caused a spectacular amount of ground-level clouds to form for weeks on end. The festival had started, apparently, when an innkeeper centuries ago had lit a bright lamp to show travellers where they could go for shelter; and spread when merchants and storytellers had joined the innkeeper, their ghostly, coloured lights swaying in the fog. These days, it was more floodlights and fairground rides - but the way the entire town came together for something that was uniquely  _theirs_  was what Anduin adored.

This year, there was a new worker at the festival. He had a stall all of his own, covered with exotic-looking trinkets and delicately-cut gems. There was intricate wirework, elegant jewellery, bent sheet metal in every shape you could imagine - tigers, cranes, oxes, and even great Eastern wind-serpents. Every piece on his stall was unique, and came with a small card telling of its supposedly magical backstory. And in the middle of it was he - dressed in an elaborate outfit, the style of which Anduin had never seen before, but he was sure it was just for the festival. His skin was much darker than most people's here, rich red-brown just like the oxidised iron he'd used in some of his pieces - and most curious of all were his eyes. Anduin didn't know how he did it, but they glowed bright-red, like the coals of a forge still in use.

"How do you get your eyes to glow like that?" Anduin asked, grinning at the stranger.  
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Why, I'm a demi-god, of course," he grinned, and Anduin couldn't tell if he was being factitious or not. "Years ago, my ancestors were empowered by a mighty Titan who granted us the gift of the Forge. Many of my family fell to ruin and corruption, becoming greedy and selfish. I'm the last of us who's pure."  
Anduin laughed. "Right. So it's LED's or something?"  
"Perhaps you'd like this one," the man said, pointing out one of the wind serpents. It was cast out of metal and painted with a deep jade-coloured glaze, with tiny emeralds set into its eyes. "She's wise and skeptical, like you are."  
Anduin grinned. "I'm not normally that skeptical, actually. Though lots of people tell me I'm wise."  
He raised an eyebrow. "No? What do you consider yourself?"  
"I try to be kind, and welcoming. I just also don't let people take advantage of me if I think they're lying," and he stuck his tongue out.  
The man's hand hovered over a badger, moulded out of some deep black metal, with bright yellow gemstones set into its sides for stripes, then pointed it out. "Perhaps her, then? You sounds similar. Or maybe even him," he said, pointing to a wireworked crane made out of bright red copper.

Anduin read the cards for both. The badger was named Helga, and it said she admired hard workers and welcomed all into her home, but cast out those who would steal and lie to gain the upper hand. The crane was named Chi Ji and was described as the Crane of Hope; it said he granted solace to those who needed it most. And much to Anduin's surprise, it seemed he was able to afford both of them.

He looked up. "Badgers are my favourite animal," he said, "how did you know?"  
"Lucky guess," the man grinned, and it was his turn to stick his tongue out.  
"Fine," Anduin sighed, though not without a grin of his own. "I'll take them both, since you're so sure about them. What's your name, by the way?"  
"Wrathion."  
"Where do you live when the festival's not on? Are you from out of town..?"  
"Yes. And I'll be moving along once it's over, I'm afraid."  
Anduin had to admit his heart sank. Wrathion seemed like a very interesting person to talk to. He handed over his money. "Good luck tonight, then," he smiled.  
"Thank you. And the same to you, my friend."

He handed the little statues over in gift-wrapped boxes, bearing a repeating pattern of black dragons constantly locked in battle with one another. Anduin thought it suited the man, somehow. He smiled and bade him farewell, and hoped very much that they'd meet again next festival.


	34. Meet while dropping kids off at school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: wranduin as single parents, wheelchair user anduin  
> warnings: (none of note)

Anduin had a child. He'd just seen them off for their first day at primary school; Mary was at work, so the honour had fallen to him.

The man he was looking at, though, had a  _brood_.

There were at least six children, all apparently around the same age, although they obviously weren't because at least one of them was wearing the darker-coloured jumper that the over-7's wore, and one of them was wearing the backpack belonging to the infant school. They all looked very similar to him - dark skin, with long, curly hair, and strangely vivid hazel eyes - so almost definitely his children, and not that he was a nanny.

There didn't seem to be another parent or anything around offering to help him with any of them; the eldest had taken one of their sibling's hands and was leading them towards the school already, while the singular parent tied shoelace after shoelace and checked bookbags for homework and reassured that he'd "bring it in at lunchtime" if it was forgotten, patting each on the top of the head and planting a kiss there before shooing them off towards the school. Finally, he picked the preschooler up and sat them on his hip, picked up the discarded coats from the rest of his brood in the other hand, and headed back to the carpark.

Anduin was so curious, and... well, he had decided to try and make friends with the other parents after Tiffin started school. This man couldn't be too bad a place to start.

"Hey," he said, "do you need help carrying those?" He gestured to the coats.  
"Oh, sure," he said, passing them down to Anduin. "I haven't seen you here before."  
Anduin rest them in his lap and wheeled along with him. "My daughter just started today," he smiled. "I take it yours have been here for a while?"  
"My eldest is ten."  
"Is it a good school?"  
"I certainly think so. They respect the children, and that's the most important thing, as far as I'm concerned."  
Anduin couldn't help but smile. "I completely agree. What's your name, may I ask?"  
"Wrathion Prestor. My children just go by Prestor until they're old enough to choose their own names, before you ask. I don't like to assign them anything they didn't choose. This one's the only one that didn't choose a name at all yet."  
Anduin addressed the preschooler on Wrathion's hip, then, who seemed to be shying away from him. "Hi, Prestor," he said, briefly waving with one hand before putting it back on the wheel.  
"Hi," they mumbled, before burying their face back in their father's chest.

"I'm Anduin Wrynn," he said. "Tiffin's pretty excited to start. Is there anyone from your family in their class?"  
"Yes," Wrathion nodded. "My second-youngest. The name they're going by at the moment is Lucion."  
"I hope they get on with Tiffin," Anduin commented. "But I'm sure we can work something out if they don't."  
"Lucion is generally fairly agreeable," Wrathion said, looking at the sky for a moment before unlocking his car. He put Prestor in their carseat before turning to Anduin to take the coats off his hands. "Thank you for helping me."  
"It's no problem," Anduin beamed. "I'll see you this afternoon?"  
"You will."  
"Good. See you then!"

Somehow, Anduin was just as excited about the friend  _he'd_  made as he was looking forwards to learning about the ones Tiffin had made.


	35. Knocking on the wrong door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: mentally ill wranduin  
> warnings: homophobia, transphobia, abandonment, familial abuse

"Hi," said the nervous-looking blond at the door. "Is Med'an in?"  
Wrathion regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "It's been a while since you tried to visit Med'an, hasn't it?"  
"...y-yes..." the blond shrunk down even further. "Is that a problem?"  
"Yes. Med'an doesn't live here any more."  
"Oh!" He laughed, shakily. "I thought you were going to say he hated me or something!"  
"I've never met him," Wrathion drawled, looking at his own hand on the doorframe for a moment. "So I couldn't say anything about that."

He looked the stranger over. He was carrying a backpack, but no other luggage, so he must have come moderately far - but not more than one day's travel. That, or he hadn't had much time to pack, and the more Wrathion looked, the more he thought that to be the more likely situation - he looked tired, his clothes were dirty and dishevelled, and he was dressed inappropriately for the chilly weather. Not to mention, he was looking increasingly anxious.

"So, um," he started, "um, do you know where he went?"  
"Afraid not. The mail forwarding is all done internally to the post service, and I don't work there, you see."  
"O-Oh..." he fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. "Okay. Um, thank you..." He was looking about uncertainly, and he honestly looked as though he was about to cry.  
"Are you alright?" Wrathion asked, and apparently that was all that was needed to open the floodgates.

Wrathion let him cry for a few moments before speaking again. "...I'm. Sorry, I have no idea what's going on."  
"I--" he sniffed, "sorry, I-- my aunt-- Katrana kicked me out because she found me with-- with my boyfriend, and-- my boyfriend wouldn't let me stay with him cos he said he was too scared of her coming over so he broke up with me and my dad's still missing overseas and I don't have anywhere else to  _go_  and I thought maybe Med'an could-- but-- he-- he moved away without-- without  _telling_  me and--"  
"Why don't you come inside," Wrathion finally suggested, gently.

He lead the man, who was still sniffling and wiping at his face, through to the living room. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll put the kettle on. There's, ahh. Tissues on the shelves, there."  
"Th-Thank you so much..."

The crying was quieter while Wrathion was in the kitchen; Wrathion filled a tray with a teapot, sugar and milk, and some cakes he'd been saving for later in the week. He kept some in the packet, of course, so  _he_  could have some, but he guessed the stranger was hungry and contrary to belief among his co-workers, he wasn't  _actually_  terribly inhospitable.

The stranger was dozing, when Wrathion returned, apparently exhausted. He woke when Wrathion nudged the door open, though - and perked up when he saw he'd brought  _food_.

"I really don't know how to say thank you enough," he gushed as he poured himself tea (two sugars  _and_  milk) and helped himself to a cake. "You have no idea how hungry I am."  
"I think I have a little," Wrathion smirked. "After all, a few years ago, I was in your situation."  
"Really?" It was the first spark of hope Wrathion had seen on his face - he very much hoped to kindle it into a smile, and was very glad he appeared to have the tools with which to do so.  
"Yes. My father was not pleased whatsoever when he found out I'd been 'living as a man' while at school, and sent me away from our home. My good friend Jorach has been setting me up with lodging since then."  
"People really do stuff like that? Just... help random strangers?"  
Wrathion gestured plainly to the tea, smirking.  
"...point taken," the man said, and he smiled and it was like the sun had shone through the window and lit up every part of his face.

Wrathion closed his mouth. "...yes. Well. We. There certainly are those who-- yes. Will. Help others when, uh. When they can."  
"That's so-- I had no idea..." He sipped his tea. "My name's Anduin, by the way."  
"I'm Wrathion. Good to meet you."  
"I... like I say, I had no idea. I've lived with my aunt for so long, and she was just so... awful. In every aspect. She used to make you think nobody would ever want you."  
"My father was exactly the same. It's a fairly common abuse tactic, you know."

They sat in silence for a little while while Anduin warmed up. Then, Wrathion made a proposal.  
"You know, I could ring my landlord Tong and ask him if you could stay in the spare room. It's empty, at the moment. You could remain there while you find your feet."  
"I-- you'd really be okay with that?" Anduin looked almost shocked.  
"I would. Call it recklessness if you like, but I don't see that I've got much to lose, and it seems as though you've rather a lot to gain."  
"R--Really?! You're not kidding??" He was grinning again, happily, excitedly; and it was the best thing Wrathion had seen in months.  
"Of course not. I'll ring him now."

Somehow, Wrathion had a very good feeling about this.


	36. Addict & sober partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: (none of note)  
> Warnings: substance addiction, meltdown, medication, self harm

"Oh, just leave me alone!" Wrathion slammed the door.

Anduin sighed, and rest a hand against it. "Wrathion, that won't make this any easier for you."  
"Go away!"  
"You're twenty-six! Don't shout at me like you're sixteen."  
"Shut up!"  
"Wrathion, the reason why this is so hard on you is because you're not letting me help you! I was assigned as your partner because the doctor thought having someone to help you find hobbies that  _aren't_  related to the drugs might help, and you aren't letting me do my job!"  
"I don't care! I don't  _want_  you to do your job!"  
"You're saying that now because you missed your medication dosage! Come on, Wrathion. This is just-- just self-destruction, and you know it. Open the door and we'll go and get coffee or something."

"Oh, yes,  _drinking coffee_ ," Wrathion snarked, with as much derision as he could physically muster. "What a  _great_  hobby."  
"It doesn't have to be that!" Anduin said, exasperated. "It could be-- it could be anything, okay? We could go and see a movie, or go bowling, or visit the library. I just think you need to get out of the house, away from the places you usually go, to do something--"  
"-- _nice_  and  _fun_  and  _oh so sweet_ ," Wrathion growled. "You don't understand, Anduin Wrynn, because  _you're_  nice and fun and oh so  _sickly_  sweet. I am  _not_. I am not  _nice_ , Anduin Wrynn, and--"  
"--that doesn't mean you don't deserve things that  _are_!" Anduin interjected, loudly. "And I think not believing that is why you're having so much trouble with this! You do so well on the replacements until you have a depressive episode, and then it's back to square one, every time. Don't think I don't recognise what self-harm looks like, Wrathion. I'm trying to show you that other things exist and that sometimes doing something nice for yourself can  _help_ , even if it's the last thing you want when you first set out. Please, come out with me?"

There was silence on the other side of the door, but finally, Wrathion opened it. He looked somewhat of a mess, his hair dishevelled and his clothes dirty, but Anduin thought it was best not to mention that in any way.

"Fine," he said, glaring at Anduin. "But whatever movie you pick, it'd better be good."


	37. Star-Crossed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: Legion war  
> warnings: character death themes, apocalypse scenario

There he was.

Anduin Llane Wrynn. The most perfect and important person on all of Azeroth.

Beset by demons on all sides, and fighting them off with bursts of light that anyone else would be astonished at their ability to summon.

Wrathion was on lower ground, fighting similarly - destroying scores of the wretched creatures with the Lightning Lance. And yet when his eyes met Anduin’s across the battlefield, he couldn’t help but be captivated for a second before being brought back to reality by the all-too-close swing of a felguard’s axe.

There were many times when he and Anduin had been close to becoming more than they were. This wasn’t the first stolen glance across the most inappropriate of arenas, and Wrathion doubted somehow that it would be the last. And yet that was all they ever had, these days. In years gone by, they’d kissed, laughed, played boardgames, so much more - yet now, this was all. This was it. Too many missed opportunities and scolding talks from Anduin’s father and too much politics, and this was it. Stolen glances across a battlefield.

Wrathion sliced the head off another demon and spun, a grin on his face. Somehow, even just this was enough to fight for.

\--

Anduin Wrynn let the Light fill him. This was it.

Azeroth’s last stand. It had gone on for weeks; and they could only foresee it going on for weeks ahead of now, too. A war in the truest sense of the word - and everyone on Azeroth had to do their part. Anduin more than most.

Velen and Turalyon had named him the leader of the Army of Light, and that came with certain responsibilities. Responsibilities like the one he was fulfilling now - spending hours at a time on the battlefield, culling numbers of the enemy or providing a distraction so civilians or covert troops could go by undetected by the genuine Legion of demons that was besieging their entire planet.

Yet something caught his eye. Across the battlefield, a glint of gold, and then a flash of lighting arcing across between several of the demons; followed by just a glint of red. That last thing drew him in, and without realising, Anduin made eye contact with Wrathion.

Oh, Wrathion. The dragon really did do his very best to help, and he was fighting effectively here too, taking out just as many demons as Anduin was. Miraculous Wrathion. Distant Wrathion, always too focussed on his work to be close to anyone.

Suddenly, unbidden, a burst of Light filled Anduin. This would be over, one day. It would. The demons would be gone, and he and Wrathion would be free to be together. This battlefield was merely a representation of what had kept them apart - and once it was cleared, once Azeroth was safe, they - and everyone else on the planet - would be free. It was what Wrathion always fought for, freedom; and Anduin could definitely get behind that. Definitely.

The stormclouds above the battlefield parted, and Anduin called down the Holy Light of the Sun to aid him. They wouldn’t go down, Azeroth wouldn’t go down; and neither he nor Wrathion wouldn’t fight alone.


	38. Celebrity and Fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: help from strange places  
> warnings: stalking, surveillance

Anduin Wrynn had always wanted to meet Wrathion Prestor, but he’d never wanted it to happen like  _this_.

The man was something of a celebrity for two reasons. First, he’d written a number of politically controversial pieces of research in the field of bio-ethics which Anduin himself happened to agree with. The focus on informed consent of the subject was something the doctor-in-training could heavily agree with, even if his colleagues - and superiors - in the field didn’t agree.

Second, he happened to be mentally ill - and his public meltdowns had been subject of many a malicious tabloid article.

It was the latter situation and not the former which had, unfortunately, brought them together. Wrathion had been effectively fleeing from a pack of the more aggressive journalists when they’d run into each other. Anduin thought he’d seemed terrified, quite honestly; he almost didn’t recognise him at first, such was his expression, so different to the dignified repose he had in his formal photo-shoots and the expression of vague disgust he took on during interviews. Without questioning the situation, he’d taken Wrathion under his long coat, and was now helping him duck quickly into an alleyway that they might lose the pack of story-hunters.

Wrathion was, it had to be said, hyperventilating - and his breaths were interspersed with comments;  _ridiculous_ , he’d mutter,  _absurd_ , and Anduin would rest his hand on his shoulder tentatively and reassure him that it’s alright, they just have to stay quiet and they’ll leave, just a few moments longer. He asked Wrathion if he had an inhaler, and the man didn’t answer; Anduin didn’t push it. It wasn’t his place.

It took fifteen minutes, but Wrathion  _did_ calm down, and the “reporters”  _did_ leave the area. It wasn’t sure how intertwined these two facts were.

“Maybe they smell fear,” Anduin quipped on reflex. He worried as soon as the words left his mouth that Wrathion might not find the joke funny, but he snorted and ducked his head. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “Yes. Perhaps indeed.”

Finally, his heart stopped hammering in his ears long enough for him to introduce himself. “My name’s Anduin,” he said, offering a hand to shake. “I’m, uh. I’m a big fan of your work, actually, I--”  
“You’re not after a story, are you?” Wrathion cut across, eyeing his hand suspiciously.  
“Oh! Oh Light!” Anduin withdrew his hand, his cheeks flushing deep crimson and his eyes filling with tears before he’d even processed the words all the way. Light-- was it his turn to have a meltdown, now? “No, I swear, I just--”  
Wrathion eyed him; eyed his response. Then breathed out a little and reached to take Anduin’s hand, despite its retraction, and shake it anyway. “I believe you, Anduin. Do you have a second name?”  
“Yes. Wrynn. Anduin Wrynn,” he said, his heart pounding again. Light, why was Wrathion making him so nervous?  
“I am, as I suspect you already know, Wrathion Prestor.” The curt smile Anduin recognised from some of his more candid interviews, and a little incline of his head. “Thank you. For your help.”

A silence hung between them, until Wrathion broke it. “I was trying to get home,” he said. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t disclose its exact location, and perhaps this is a little forward of me altogether, but would you mind escorting me to where one of my bodyguards can pick me up?”  
“Ah…” Anduin breathed out, straightening his back. “Yeah. I was heading home myself, so I don’t have anywhere to be.”  
Wrathion seemed visibly relieved. “Perhaps, at the end of all this,” he said, his tone only a little sardonic, “I may even give you my phone number.”

Anduin’s heart was still fluttering, but he’d identified its true cause now. He wasn’t nervous, or frightened. He was  _attracted_.

He’d help out anyway, whether Wrathion made good on the tentative suggestion of a phone number exchange or not. But maybe the confidence in his step, the little spring in it, was due to the hope that he might.


	39. Spirit and Mortal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: unusual friendships  
> warnings: controlled fire

Anduin had been having the strangest experience in the last few days.

He went upstairs to his room before bed, like normal. He got changed into his bedclothes. He chose a book to read, filled his glass from the jug of water Wyll left out by the washbasin, and fetched his reading glasses from his desk. He stoked the fire, ready to light a splint from it so he could light the little lamp he read by the light of, and--

Oh, yes. That was always the part where things had started to go strangely, lately.

He knelt by the fire and he swore, as he’d sworn every day this week, that a face appeared in it for just a split second. He stoked the fire, and it seemed to brighten up, as usual; crackling and blasting dry heat at his face. Then he reached in with the splint.

This was where things got strange. The flames seemed to dance out of the way, almost refusing to set the little piece of wood alight. He tried a different angle; the same thing again. Even placing it in the centre of the flames yielded no result.

In previous days, he’d donned the thick gloves with the fire-keeping equipment and stuck the splint directly into the coals. That had lit it, but the fire seemed to die down, almost as if sulking. It wasn’t possible for a fire to sulk, was it? ...but the thought had made Anduin consider something, and today he decided to try it.

Instead of sticking the splint into the coals, he sighed and spoke to the fire. “Please?”

Immediately, the face reappeared.

It was much clearer this time. Curly “hair” framed a face about the size of Anduin’s own; it had a button nose, round eyes with slit pupils like a cat’s, smooth cheeks, and a full pair of lips. Its bushy eyebrows - formed more by the shadows between the active flames than the flames themselves - raised at Anduin, and in a voice like a thousand sparks, the creature spoke.

“Finally,” it said. “I thought you’d never catch on.”

Anduin stared.

“Well?” Sparks spat from the bed of coals as the creature regarded Anduin. “Aren’t you going to offer your silly little piece of wood again? Fir trees are so tasty, after all.”  
“Excuse me,” Anduin said, “are you being sarcastic?”  
“No,” the fire replied, sarcastically.

Anduin breathed out, slowly, counselling himself patience. “Alright. If you don’t like fir, is there something else you’d like?”  
The fire crackled again, eyeing Anduin almost curiously. “If you ask nicely, I can tolerate it long enough to light your little splint.”  
Anduin looked at the creature, then nodded. “Alright. Please may you light my splint, so I can read my book by the light of my lamp?”  
“Yes, I shall. Present the item in question.”

Anduin held the splint forward, and the fire leaned up, gently pressing a kiss to the tip of the wood. A small flame sprung up (this one didn’t have a face) and began smouldering its way down the splint.

Anduin went and lit the lamp, then brought it back to sit by the fire again. The face was still there, watching him, crackling over the coals.  
“Thank you,” Anduin said. “What’s your name?”  
“Why, my true name, I doubt your flesh-lips could pronounce with any amount of efficacy. But you may call me Wrathion.”  
Anduin subdued a grin. “Alright. What pronouns do you like?”  
“Again, my native language is as inaccessible to you as the heart of the Firelands. But in this language we speak, you may call me he.”  
“Are you a ghost?”

The question seemed to take Wrathion aback, and one eyebrow raised, his pupils constricting. “No. Anduin Wrynn, I was never alive to begin with.”  
“Alright.” Anduin scratched his cheek. “I just wanted to know. It would have been a little awkward if you’d died in my chimney.”  
“It would,” Wrathion said, with humour Anduin didn’t usually expect out of… elementals? He must be an elemental. “Lucky us that it’s not the case.”  
“How long are you going to stay?”  
“Well, now you’ve learned to say please and thank you, perhaps I’ll stay a little longer.” He puffed up, heat pouring out of the fireplace; ruffling Anduin’s hair and making his eyes water. “A pleasure to finally make your acquaintence, your Highness.”  
Anduin smirked. Of course a fire elemental who lived in a royal Keep would have manners. “And to meet yours, Wrathion.”

“Now, what say you bring your book over here for once, so I may read it too? Or at least read aloud. Do you know how boring it is to live in a fireplace?”  
“I can only imagine,” Anduin grinned. “Alright.”

And so, they read the book together; and for all Wrathion’s sarcastic comments might have been a little irritating to someone else, Anduin found himself growing very fond of them, very quickly. He fell asleep that night feeling much warmer than usual - and, somehow, much less lonely indeed.

 

 


	40. Fall in love with best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: support in recovery  
> warnings: transphobia, homophobia, ableism, abuse

Wrathion never expected to find love. And he certainly never expected to find it sat next to him in maths class. And English class. And art class. And every other class he’d had since he was four.

His life was, in polite terms… a clusterfuck. He’d grown up with a father who wanted him dead and a mother who had passed away, two half-siblings with nothing but evil intent for him, and one very determined older brother. Teachers at school had hardly helped, although they did push him to fulfil his academic potential despite his rocky beginning. And to top it all off, he had a veritable host of neuroses which obstructed his every-day living to the extent that sometimes he struggled to get out of bed.

He was not, it had to be said, much of a catch. Not in his own opinion, anyway. Far from it - he’d resigned himself early on to a life of solitude. He’d been perhaps six years old when he’d first determined that he was rather bad indeed at making friends, and resolved never to try it again.

And he’d been six and a half when a certain someone had decided that Wrathion’s opinion on his friend-making skills didn’t matter when it came to actually making friends.

Anduin Llane Wrynn had sat next to him since they’d begun school, but he’d been a quiet child during the early years. Wrathion hadn’t minded him at all; he didn’t cause trouble for him, which was more than could be said for many of their other classmates. But they hadn’t been friends.

And then one day, Anduin had suddenly said hello.

Wrathion stared at him, taken aback. Anduin had never spoken to him before, not even to ask him to pass the pencil-pot. He swallowed. “Hello,” he replied.  
“I like your hair,” Anduin continued, smiling brightly at him. He glanced to Wrathion’s dark curls, then back to his face.  
“...” Wrathion looked at him distrustfully, narrowing his eyes and turning his face to the side like his older brother did when someone was trying to fob him off. “...thanks,” he said, cautiously.

But there’d been no ulterior motive. No insult lurking in the dark waiting for Wrathion to relax before striking. No cruelty had ever resided in Anduin Wrynn’s heart, and that first day was not an exception.

They were fifteen now, Anduin almost sixteen; and they’d been together in almost every aspect of their life since then.

Wrathion had continued to hold the opinion that he would never find love, of course. He continued to believe he was far too… well, among other things, transgender to ever find a girlfriend. Far too mentally ill. Far too weird. He lived with his older brother now, in a one-bedroom flat where his brother let him have the bedroom while he slept on the floor under the dining room table. Their apartment was a mess, and he rarely felt comfortable inviting Anduin there, let alone anyone else. He didn’t really own many belongings, beyond those required for school, and he certainly didn’t keep any hobbies. Far too expensive.

Yet through all those years with Anduin faithfully by his side, something began to take root.

He didn’t recognise it, at first. He simply assumed that was how you felt, when your friend was around. Your only friend. Your best friend, in the entire world, and the only person you felt you could truly rely on for anything. But it became increasingly evident over the years that what he felt was different than what Anduin likely felt. And where most people would take solace from the outpouring of positive emotion, Wrathion merely felt distressed by it.

He was in love. With his best friend. With a boy. Didn’t that mean--? Had he been mistaken about his own gender..? Gods. And the chances that Anduin felt the same - infinitesimal. The entire situation was absurd, and better ignored than pursued.

So he tried to ignore it. He really, very much did. He even came into school one week with the intention of avoiding Anduin entirely, only to find his desire to do so evaporate immediately as soon as Anduin entered the room.

And then he tried insistently refused to behave as though he had the crush, constantly vetting his own behaviour for anything that might indicate attraction. That ended in its own blind alley - one which would, it turned out, prevent him from achieving any other result than the one it produced.

Which was Anduin, after school on his sixteenth birthday, tearfully asking Wrathion if he’d done something wrong.

Wrathion was-- frankly, dumbstruck. How had he-- what made him think that?

“No,” he said, reaching for Anduin. “No, Anduin-- never! I didn’t--”  
“Then what??” Anduin made a frustrated little gesture, throwing his hands down to his sides. Never raising his fists. Never, not even now. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks! Brushing me off! We-- we always do everything together, I-- do you not want that any more?? I mean--” the tears spilled over, “we can-- stop, if you don’t want to, we can just--”

Wrathion watched in horror. Was this the result his decision had yielded..?

He was, in general, a very cautious person. He never did anything without planning it. In previous years, this had saved him from several run-ins with his father, from failing exams, from falling behind on his medication - but maybe… maybe, this time, his plans had failed him. Maybe this time he needed to go off-book.

On impulse, he did something very, very foolish.

He gently placed his hands on Anduin’s upper arms and he leaned in to kiss him.

Almost immediately as soon as his lips touched Anduin’s he realised what an awful mistake he’d made, and he pulled back suddenly, his face burning. He was about to begin apologising more profusely than he’d ever apologised for anything in his sorry little life, when... Anduin kissed him back.

It calmed them both. It was the right decision to make, really. And when Anduin gently broke it, they did nothing but make eye contact with one another for several long moments.

“...so,” Anduin said quietly, moving to stand closer to Wrathion. Wrathion didn’t know what to expect out of his mouth next, so he was very glad when it was, “you’re not mad at me?”  
“No!” Wrathion found himself laughing, nervously. “Not mad. Not mad at all, Anduin Wrynn.”  
“Sort of the opposite of that thing, huh…”  
“Y… Yes.” Wrathion swallowed. “Yes.”

There was quiet while Anduin looked at Wrathion’s lips, gently lifting his hand so he could stroke at the little patch of facial hair he was beginning to grow there. Wrathion decided to break it with something that had been bothering him a lot.  
“It’s-- fairly awful of me,” he said. “To assume you’d want this.”  
Anduin raised an eyebrow. “You-- Wrathion, weren’t you assuming the opposite of that?”  
Wrathion blinked, taken aback. “Well--”  
“You don’t have to keep apologising. I just… I thought you hated me.”  
“I really didn’t. I was… I merely…”  
“...you were scared, huh? I guess it all makes sense now,” Anduin said thoughtfully, the tears now fully dried on his cheeks.  
“I wasn’t--!”  
“It’s alright to be!” Anduin insisted, looking at Wrathion’s face again. “I wasn’t-- blaming you or anything, it was just… confusing.”  
Wrathion frowned a little, wondering how this wasn’t confusing, too; but not saying anything.  
“I mean, it’s not like you knew I was gay, so it makes sense you’d be worried about whether I felt the same…”

It felt as though a weight was lifted from Wrathion’s chest that he didn’t even know was there. “You…”  
“I’m in love with you, too” Anduin said quietly. “I’m… sorry I hid it from you.”  
“May I kiss you?”

Anduin smiled, tears springing to his eyes again, and nodded profusely. So they kissed; it was sweet, and unexpected, and perfect. And Wrathion never worried about finding love again.


	41. time lord & companion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: abduction vaguely implied

“Come on. There’s no time at all to waste.” He grabbed Anduin’s hand and pulled him through the door that-- Anduin swore hadn’t been there a moment ago.

And what was inside was… _definitely_ not there a moment ago.

All he could register about it was _elegant_ before this-- this ridiculous man swept him up towards a console in the centre, positioning him in front of one of the terminals before dashing back to-- another door? Was this an entire _building_ which Anduin had never noticed in his own neighbourhood? He shouted in a language Anduin didn’t recognise, and two other people - women, by the looks of things - emerged and took other terminals on the console.

“What’s going on??” Anduin demanded, gripping the edge of the terminal he’d been placed in front of.

The strange man looked at him. “Oh. Did I forget to make introductions again?”  
“Yes!”  
“I’m The Fury.”  
“Wh.. What kind of a name is _that_?”  
“A very good one, in fact, and one I chose for _myself_ , if you’d be so kind. This is a TARDIS, and you know that man who you thought was behaving suspiciously a few moments ago? So much so that you _gave chase_ to him. Rather brave indeed of you, especially for a mortal. And in those heels, as well. I admired your zeal, so I decided to clue you in on the facts, and if you could take ahold of the joystick just by your left hand that would be _wonderful_ , thank you.”  
“Wh--” Anduin breathed out hard, and looked down at the console, taking the joystick in hand. “What for?”  
“Just hold it steady,” The Fury grinned.

And then the room started to… _move_. The floor vibrated, and something in the centre of the console began to oscillate between ceiling and floor. The Fury, and the two women who stood either side of him, all had their own dials or controls to monitor, and Anduin had to admit that theirs looked much more complicated.

Then the entire room _lurched_ , and Anduin suddenly found himself struggling to stand up, let alone keep the joystick steady.

The Fury didn’t say anything, though he did glance in his direction. The room thrummed like a train at full speed, and The Fury continued talking even as what seemed to be the engine in the centre of _whatever this was_ got up to a steady speed.

“That man is called The Expedient. He’s not very clever, but he _is_ well-connected, and he must be here for something rather specific indeed. Tell me, ahh-- what was your name, again?”  
“Anduin,” he said, eyes wide.  
“Anduin! Do you have knowledge of anyone particularly powerful or notorious?”  
“Um-- yes.”  
“And you were talking about them just now?”  
“Oh-- he was eavesdropping.”  
“Yes! Very good. He must have gleaned something about the location of the person in question, and be meaning to free them or otherwise enable them to act further than they ought to be able to. That’s what he does, you see. Luckily, we have access to all the same technology that _he_ does, and so with any luck…”  
“--we’ll get there first?”  
“Yes.”

Anduin got the distinct feeling of having passed a test. And as much as The Fury unnerved him… he wanted to see where this was going to end up.


	42. best friend's sibling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: unrequited love becomes requited  
> warnings: abusive friendship, abusive sibling

“Ew, Wrathion, he’s not hanging out with you today.” Katrana’s arms circled Anduin’s shoulders with a casualness that made Wrathion bristle. “He’s coming with me. Aren’t you, sweetie?”  
“Yeah,” Anduin said, shrugging helplessly. “Sorry. We’ll make it some other time.”

Wrathion bristled, but let them go.

This happened every week. Wrathion would invite Anduin over, or would be invited over himself; and his _wretched_ sister would somehow manage to make it all about _her_ , and they’d never get to even speak with one another. It was absurd. They only lived a few miles apart, and yet all of their conversations took place on line, more or less. Completely ridiculous.

And Anduin wouldn’t fight it, either. Which meant that after a while, Wrathion also stopped doing so. It hurt his heart, but if Anduin’s loyalties truly lay with Katrana, then that was his decision - who was he to stop him?

So, then; one can well imagine Wrathion’s surprise when Anduin confessed that it was Wrathion he loved - and that he wished to work with him to get Katrana away from himself. At first Wrathion suspected this to be one of her pranks; but, well.

Let’s just say it became evident otherwise _very_ quickly indeed.


	43. dysfunctional relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: (none of note)  
> Warnings: dysfunctional sibling relationship

Anduin took a deep breath, and slipped into the room so he could sit next to Wrathion on the sofa.

He was playing video games. On most days, Anduin thought the way he looked when he concentrated like this was adorable. Today, he wasn’t quite in the right frame of mind to think of it that way.

He waited next to him until he got to a part of the game where he could easily pause, and then he spoke. “Wrathion?”  
The smaller man turned to look at him, the television screen freezing as his thumb went to the centre button on the controller. “Anduin,” he said, caution in both his tone and his mannerism.  
“I wanted to talk to you about… your brother.”  
Wrathion tensed, and Anduin grimaced.

“I know it’s a difficult topic, but… I’m really worried about you two--”  
“We’re fine,” Wrathion said curtly. “Is that all?”  
“No!” Anduin curled his hands into fists. “You can’t keep avoiding this topic! He’s always so nasty to you, and you’re always so mean to him to _get_ him to be - _why_? You’re both nice people when you’re on your own! I don’t get it!”  
“Is it really any of your business?” Wrathion snapped, irritation growing in his mannerisms.  
“Yes! You’re my boyfriend, and your brother’s spending more and more time at my parents’ house now. I just want to understand what’s going on.”  
“You wouldn’t unless you’d grown up with us,” Wrathion said coldly.  
“You don’t even let me try! I’m… really sorry, Wrathion, but it can’t go on like this. Please let me help you, or just explain to me what’s going on, or anything. Please.”

Wrathion put the controller down, slowly, not making eye contact. “And let me guess, you’re going to break up with me if I don’t do as you say?”  
“No! Not at all…” Anduin reached out for him, but held back from touching him. “I just want you to know I think it’s a problem, and I think we can work on it together… you don’t have to deal with-- whatever it is on your own. Please?”  
“I don’t even know what the problem’s supposed to be!”  
“It’s just--” Anduin made a frustrated gesture, “ _dysfunctional_ , y’know? The way your brother and you treat each other. And it does go both ways. It makes me a bit uncomfortable to see you treating him the way you do… would you ever treat _me_ that way, y’know?”

Wrathion’s expression softened a little at that last statement, and it seemed like Anduin had actually got him to _think_. That’s… all he wanted. Something other than dismissal. Relief washed over him as Wrathion turned his face his way a little, although he didn’t exactly look at him.  
“You… worry about that?”  
“A little, sometimes,” Anduin admitted, chewing his lip.  
“...then maybe…” he was still tensed, and he drew into himself a little. “Maybe we can talk,” he finally admitted.


	44. cop & person receiving speeding ticket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: tiny brown tony stark Wrathion  
> warnings: police

“Oh, sorry.” Wrathion nudged his sunglasses a little down the bridge of his nose and regarded the officer over the top of them. “Was I going a little fast?”  
“Yes, you were.” If Wrathion didn’t know better, he’d say the officer was behaving a little meekly - smiling apologetically and shrugging his shoulders.  
But it didn’t matter. A speeding ticket was a speeding ticket.

Wrathion heaved a sigh and rolled the window down the rest of the way, and flashed his license for the man. Not that it _really_ mattered; it wasn’t as though his car’s roof was covering it at the moment anyway. He expected to get the lecture about license points and fines, by now - both were negligible to him. With the contract he had with the government, his license was simply re-issued by the military every time it was taken away _anyway_.

But the lecture didn’t come, and he returned his gaze to the officer.

 _Ohhh_. One of those.

“Yes, I _am_ Wrathion Prestor, and yes, you may have my autograph. As soon as I get yours.” He tapped his license against the edge of the ticket book, poised as it was in the officer’s hands. “Deal?”  
“--uh, actually I kind of wanted to ask you about something else, but it doesn’t matter.”

He filled out the form, gave Wrathion the schpiel about reckless driving, and handed him his ticket. Usually, Wrathion would’ve been very content simply to get along with his day after that - but he had to admit to being curious. So before the man returned to his car, Wrathion shouted over his shoulder - “hey! What was it you wanted to ask me about?”  
“Oh!” he turned to face Wrathion again, scratching his cheek awkwardly. “It’s-- It’s kind of complicated, it’s okay!”  
“No, now I _really_ want to know.” He twisted in his seat to look better at the officer. He was tall and willowy and his hair came down past his cheeks; far longer than regulation, most likely, but he admired this officer’s ability to disregard such trifling expectations.

The officer glanced aside, then moved back over to Wrathion’s car. “Um… well, my dad and I used to know one of, um… one of your relatives.”  
Wrathion’s shoulders tensed. But the officer must’ve noticed, because he made a frantic gesture with both hands, and continued, “but we see things about you in the news all the time, and… I don’t know whether he was joking or not, but my dad said once that he’d really like to meet you! So I wanted to ask if you would… come for dinner at our house, one time?”

Wrathion stared. This could so very easily be a hoax, or a media scam. But something about the earnest look in the man’s eyes won him over.

“Very well,” he conceded. “Give me the address.”

And so he did.


	45. librarian & avid reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

“What, _all_ of these?”

The attractive librarian laughed, and Wrathion tried not to flush with indignance.

“Yes. All of them.” He pushed the stack of books further across the counter. It was a mixed bag, as it were - some Titan history, some speculative works by human anthropologists on draconic society, some scholarly journals that Wrathion liked to keep up to date on but couldn’t afford the subscription fee for. He could afford a library card, though. And he would like to use it.

The suitably bookish-looking man who was sat on the other side of the desk rubbed at the back of his head, making his fine hair stick up for a moment before falling back into place when he brought his hand forward to split the stack of books into two slightly less precarious stacks. “Alright then,” he said, still grinning a bit. “Can I see your library card?”  
“Of course.”

He took it and scanned it. One eyebrow raised as Wrathion’s profile came up on the screen; Wrathion drummed his fingers on the top of one of the stacks of books as… he squinted at the name tag... _Anduin_ looked it over.

“Alright,” he finally said. “Normally we wouldn’t allow such a large withdrawal at once, but we do have a loyalty programme, and you are eligible for it. So this should be alright.”  
“I know,” Wrathion said shortly.  
“So, uh… I just need you to help me split this stack into piles small enough for the RFID reader,” he smiled. “Stacks of five or so.”  
“Alright.”

So they did. Wrathion wasn’t much of one for small talk, but Anduin insisted on commenting on every second title. Usually, that would aggravate him, but… he seemed genuinely interested in what Wrathion was reading about.

Eventually Wrathion cut across him, mid-sentence. “You don’t have to pretend to be interested, you know. I know it’s your job. But you don’t have to.”  
Anduin was stunned into momentary silence, but then he just smiled. “I really am interested, I promise.”  
“...” Wrathion stared. “...Alright.”

Wrathion did leave with his books. And his journals. And his library card.

And Anduin’s number.


	46. boss & intern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: irl fantasy au, MANY WHELPS HANDLE IT  
> warnings: dysfunctional family relationships
> 
> additional notes: this is long but not very good but i'm fed up of looking at it, so just, take it, sorry

“So,” he said, far closer to Anduin’s ear than he’d expected. “How are we getting along?”

Anduin jumped. A mistake. He felt his boss’s subtle triumph; but then the man backed off a little, and Anduin cautiously relaxed.

“...just fine,” he said. “Thank you.”

He’d been working here for around a month by now, and it got stranger every day.

To be honest, he’d expected it to be strange when he signed up. It _was_ a paranormal investigation firm. Anduin had finished his university course in Light Studies a year early and tried to go into the standard medical route, only to find it wasn’t really to his tastes. He loved helping people, but he… ugh, it sounded silly when he thought about it directly. He didn’t like the _day-to-day_.

So when he’d seen the job advertisement in the newspaper advising only people with an _adventurous spirit_ to apply, he’d jumped at the opportunity. The fact he passed the interview was what sealed his change in career.

It was, granted, mostly an office job. But the parts that _weren’t_ an office job made it worthwhile. The parts where they were snooping around abandoned warehouses and churchyards, meeting with clients who needed their help - satiating vengeful spirits, negotiating territory disputes between vampires, helping werewolves to find secure places to spend the full moon. Even the odd demon made their way through their doors, looking for genuine assistance with usually a fairly mundane matter such as accommodation or appropriate feeding grounds.

It was a common misconception that the paranormal investigation firm would help mortals with their paranormal problems. In truth, it was much more about helping the beings considered as paranormal themselves. And Anduin _loved_ it.

It stood to reason that his boss was also a paranormal being, then. But his boss was actually the main sticking point Anduin had with the job. Not because he was… nasty, or anything… and it wasn’t because Anduin was underpaid. He was actually earning a fair wage for a trainee intern, far more than he could’ve expected in the regular job market. But… well. His boss was a dragon. A _black dragon_.

Anduin knew it was unfair to have reservations on someone simply because of their species, but the fact of the matter is that he had been raised in part by a black dragon, and she’d been singularly horrid to him. He tried not to let it affect his relationship with his boss. It wouldn’t be fair. He’d been perfectly lovely to him so far, if a little… intimate, and Anduin tried to keep a reign on his behaviour. Maybe it’d even help him sleep better at night.

One of their colleagues - human, like Anduin - knocked politely on the edge of Anduin’s desk. Wrathion gave him a confident smile before turning his attention to what she had to say. They murmured quietly for a few moments, Wrathion taking a small stack of papers from her; then he glanced back to Anduin.

“Wrynn,” he said, seeking eye contact with him before continuing. “I believe you would be an asset on this particular endeavour. Would you care to join us?”

Anduin’s face lit up. “I’d like nothing more, sir,” he said. Another chance at field work? Just what he needed after a monotonous day of answering the phone and filling in paperwork.

\--

The little rickety van pulled up outside an even littler and more rickety house.

Its tumble-down walls were barely holding up its shabby roof, which had so many tiles missing that Anduin wasn’t sure the building wasn’t derelict at first. Maybe they were dealing with a ghost? The report hadn’t mentioned what sort of creature they were dealing with, simply that they needed assistance in finding new accommodation. He frowned and flicked through the report - typed up by their colleague before they’d left the office - looking for any mention of their species.

“Do you know who we’re dealing with?” he asked, looking to Wrathion in the driver’s seat.  
“I was assured it should be a fairly open-and-shut relocation job,” he said, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel. “Perhaps I’ll fetch the ectoplasmic containers, just in case.”

Anduin gave a breathy laugh and packed the report away into its little plastic wallet before opening the door of the van, grabbing his cane, and carefully climbing down. He heard the van door slam on the other side as Wrathion also climbed out, then the back door of the van open. He slowly made his way around to see what Wrathion was planning to take with him, and was surprised to see he’d selected only a briefcase full of papers before slamming the back door again.

“Come on, then,” he gestured, stepping onto the curb and waiting for Anduin to move round alongside him before continuing up towards the property at a pace Anduin could maintain with his bad joints across the jumbled, uneven, overgrown garden path.

They rang the doorbell. It didn’t appear to work. Wrathion rolled his eyes a little, glanced at Anduin, then gave what was termed the ‘bailiff knock’. But on the second time he raised his fist to rap on the door, it opened. “I heard you the first time,” said the voice from inside, as the door creaked open just a little.

Anduin couldn’t see much of the person, except that one of their eyes was glowing a vibrant orange. “Good afternoon, citizen,” Anduin began, “we’re from the--”  
“Yes, yes, I know who you are.” But the door didn’t open yet. Anduin thought back to the ectoplasmic containers in the van when the person continued. “But I didn’t know _he’d_ be here.”  
“Ex… excuse me?”  
“ _Him_ ,” snapped the voice - and an accusing finger darted out at… Wrathion.

Wrathion recoiled. “Excuse me?” he repeated from Anduin, only, with far more offence in his tone. Maybe this was why he didn’t go out on field work that often…  
“You know who you are,” the voice growled. “And you aren’t welcome on my premises. The human can stay. You, leave.”  
“I…” Anduin spoke up, but they bickered over him.  
“I am not leaving my colleague _on his own_ in a stranger’s yard!” Wrathion snapped back, drawing himself up. “We work in pairs for a _reason_ , and _you_ are not an exception to--”

“I don’t care!” Finally the door was slammed open the rest of the way, and… it was not a ghost, as Anduin had expected. It was a tall, dark-skinned person with long greasy hair and a bright orange turtleneck sweater that had seen better days. This individual looked very much alive, and very angry. “ _Leave_!”  
“Please, citizen, if you’ll explain--”  
“No, Anduin, it’s quite alright. If this person doesn’t want our _help_ , we’ll leave.”  
“Wrathion!” Anduin turned on his boss, now, his heart pounding in his throat. “We were called out for a reason! We can’t just abandon the situation over-- something we don’t even know what it is!” He turned to the stranger again; this time, they were both staying quiet, allowing Anduin to speak. “Please… explain what the problem is?”

The person at the door heaved a sigh, and shifted their weight, scowling between the two men at the door. Eventually, they did decide to speak. “My name is Sabellian,” they said, “I am a man, and _this whelp_ ,” he jabbed that accusing finger at Wrathion again, “has caused me more trouble than you know!”

Wrathion suddenly _whirled_ on Sabellian, his hands by his sides and curled into fists. “ _You_! Ha! I barely _recognised_ you in such an atrocious place! Why, I ought to leave you here, after--”  
“So a wonderful lot of good your little ‘investigation bureau’ does if you turn people away because you can’t live up to your--”  
“ ** _Please_**!!”

Once again, Anduin had managed to command silence. They both stared at him. He took a deep breath, then sighed it out. “Please,” he repeated. “Let’s speak civilly.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you to make you hate each other like this, but right now we’re in a _professional environment_ where we need to help Sabellian with the problem he has. Wrathion, I know it’s difficult to behave civilly when you’re… offended, or frightened. But right now we need to. And Sabellian, if you could refrain from provoking my colleague, then we can complete the assessment and leave.”

Wrathion scowled, but didn’t say anything. And Sabellian grunted a “fine”, and “just get inside.”

The house was in just as bad a state on the inside as it had been on the outside. Wallpaper was sloughing off the walls and the carpets had an unpleasantly tacky feel beneath the feet as Sabellian lead them through to the kitchen. It was a dingy room with filthy… everything, although it was most conspicuous not by the amount of clutter, but by the lack of any at all. The cupboard or two with missing doors appeared to have no food of any kind inside them. Anduin frowned.

“The situation is this,” Sabellian said briskly, talking to Anduin and ignoring Wrathion. “My lodgings here are becoming entirely untenable due to the age of the property itself and the age of my children. Several of them are outgrowing--”  
Wrathion interrupted. “Wait, you have children? Here?”  
“Yes,” Sablemane drawled. “And I’m sure you’d like to have social services take them all away from me!”  
“That was _one time_ and it was _entirely_ necessary for the good of--”  
“ _Please_!” Anduin breathed out; he was beginning to feel this situation testing his patience. “If you have children here, Sabellian, you’re more or less guaranteed a re-location.”  
“I thought as much. The usual agencies simply won’t consider my case, regardless of the true consequences. I’m sure you know why.” He shot another glare at Wrathion.  
“I’m… sorry, why would that be?” Anduin asked, though he had an increasingly firm idea of why - and it had nothing to do with Sabellian’s mannerisms.  
“Because I’m a black dragon,” he said, as if he were bored of uttering the phrase.

And Anduin understood.

They weren’t snapping at each other over a simple feud. It was because they were having a territory dispute. Whether over something worthy, or simply the fact there was another of their kind in their space, Anduin didn’t know - but in his mind, it didn’t matter, either. Carefully, he re-evaluated his approach.

By this time, Wrathion had his arms folded and was glaring out of the filthy window. Beyond it, dregs of sunlight could be seen, but not much made it inside the building.

“Well,” Anduin said slowly. “I think we can certainly get the paperwork for a proper move started, and complete an assessment for an immediate move today or tomorrow given you have children living here. If it’s not too much to ask, may we… may we see them?”

Sabellian glared between the two men, then eventually grunted: “Yes. But only you. Not him,” and an accusing finger jabbed at Wrathion.  
“For the _last time_ , I shall not be allowing my work partner to--”  
“Wrathion! It’s okay! I can take care of myself. Really.”  
“It’s against protocol!”  
“But it’s what’s _right_ ,” Anduin insisted. “I just need to check he actually has children staying here. Then we can fill out the paperwork and actually _help him_ like we came here to do!”

Wrathion stared at him, then at Sabellian; the discrepancy between his two sets of priorities clearly showing on his face. But, eventually, it seemed like his professional persona - otherwise shed at the door of this cramped house - won out. “Alright,” he said. “But I’m waiting at the door.”

Sabellian seemed to recognise the compromise for what it was, and conceded rather than arguing. At a brisk pace, he lead the two men upstairs - glaring at Wrathion to stop at the top of the rickety staircase. Which, thankfully for Anduin’s increasingly sore throat, he did.

Sabellian’s footsteps softened the further along the corridor he went, so Anduin followed his example, although having three points of contact to the creaky floorboards instead of just two certainly didn’t help. They reached a door which, unlike most of the house, had been cleaned recently; then Sabellian quietly unlocked it and stepped inside, beckoning Anduin in and shooting one last glower down the corridor at Wrathion.

This room was… the brightest and most cared-for in the house that Anduin had seen so far. Its walls were still blighted by damp, its wallpaper old and discoloured, and its carpet worn threadbare by years of use, but it had been cleaned and vacuumed and the windows had been wiped down inside and out. And in the middle was… a nest of tiny, tiny whelps.

They were so _delicate_ , all tangled up together like this, and fast asleep. Anduin didn’t think he’d ever seen black dragons looking so… small, or _sweet_. They were downright _cute_ , that was the only way he could think to describe them. His memories of black dragon whelps was very different - a horde of them had chased him as a child, seeking to hurt him, and they haunted his nightmares. But these guys didn’t seem like that at all. They just seemed like… babies.

“How did they come to be here?” asked Anduin, glancing to Sabellian before daring to peer closer at the little nest.  
“They are my grandchildren. Their parents found themselves unable to care for them. I have much experience in raising whelps from this age, but my accommodation isn’t suitable.”  
“I see.” Anduin’s next question was more out of curiosity: “How many are there?”  
“Ten.”  
“Alright.” Anduin noted it down on the form, making his penstrokes as light as he could so’s to be quiet. They were just so little and precious and he couldn’t bear to wake them, even accidentally.

Though it broke Anduin’s heart to think so, he did have to do one more thing before they could go back to the kitchen. “I need to do a health check on them,” he said quietly, “so we can prove you’ve been doing your best to care for them given the circumstances, and also record any health problems caused by the current accommodation.”  
His previous line of study as a medical student meant that passing the examination for qualification on this matter had been easy for Anduin - intern though he was, he probably would have done this part of the assessment even if Wrathion had accompanied him into this part of the house.

Sabellian frowned at him. “They need their rest,” he drawled, “but if you must.”  
“We can come back at the end of the assessment to do it if you like.”  
“That might be better for them, yes,” he said, his gaze softening as he turned it to the whelps.

“Then… back to the other room?”  
“Yes,” said Sabellian, and he ushered Anduin out of the room without further ado. “You go. I will stay and awaken them for your little health assessment.”  
“Oh… oh, okay.” Anduin swallowed as the door was closed behind him. “Alright.”

The dark, damp corridor loomed. Anduin sighed. He’d have to brave it.

Wrathion was sat on the staircase by the time he made it down the corridor, and they walked back to the kitchen together without another word. The floorboards creaked underfoot; the hand-rail by the stairs shook as Anduin held onto it. And it was only once they were in the relative sanctity of the kitchen again that Anduin dared to speak.

“Wrathion…”  
“Mm.” He folded his arms tight, leaning against the kitchen table. Repeated attempts had obviously been made to scrub the surface clean, but Wrathion would still probably have to wash his trousers when he got home. “What.”  
“What’s the deal with you two?”  
Wrathion scoffed, and had Anduin known the man even a little less well, he might have taken it as derision and stopped trying. But he knew it to be defensive. “I’m sorry, Anduin Wrynn, but I forgot to mention that such knowledge is none of your business whatsoever.”  
“I think it is,” Anduin said quietly, patiently. “I don’t want to have to do these health assessments on my own, so if I could help you two get on somehow, just for today…”  
“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Wrathion snapped. But he recognised it was out of line only a moment later, and dropped his eye contact, before mumbling. “You are a human, Anduin Wrynn. You wouldn’t understand.”  
“I dunno,” he said. “If this is abuse stuff, that happens to humans too. And if it’s territory stuff… well, uh.” He offered a smile. “My father’s a made scion of Goldrinn. I think I know about that, too.”

There was a silence while Wrathion seemed to consider. Then, finally, he sighed. “Sabellian and I share a father. He was singularly cruel to both of us, and neither of us have pleasant memories of that time.”  
“So you… get reminded of bad times when you see him? Or is it something else?”  
“I don’t trust him,” Wrathion said. “All those years, surely he could have done _something_ to fight back. Was he in league with my father? I spent so long trying to get away, Anduin, you must understand; will he tell my father where I’m living? Where I’m working?”  
Anduin frowned. “I don’t… know much about either of you,” he confessed. “But… if it does turn out he’s in league with your father, I’ll help you. And in the meantime, maybe if you help me with the assessments and treat his whelps gently, he’ll trust you more.”  
“Mm. You would think that.” Wrathion frowned. “But fine. I’ll see the whelps.”

They talked a little more. Anduin wasn’t really happy with the initial reassurance he’d made, so he probed gently about how founded Wrathion’s concerns about Sabellian were. With relief, he learned that they were mostly based in paranoia and, yes, territorial dispute - Sabellian himself hadn’t given Wrathion any reason to distrust him; he was simply associated with a bad situation. Wrathion even seemed halfway aware of the fact that he was behaving erratically around the older dragon, and gave Anduin reassurances that he’d attempt to behave professionally from then on. Anduin was struck - not for the first time - with the feeling that this was a very strange _internship_ , but… he was never really one for normal, anyway.

Persuading _Sabellian_ to allow Wrathion to health-check the whelps was another matter entirely. If Anduin didn’t know any better, he’d think the man was about to shapeshift in his fury as they discussed the matter in the corridor outside the whelps’ room; an individual as old as Sabellian wouldn’t do that in a house that also contained his whelps, but the hairs on the back of Anduin’s neck still pricked as he desperately tried to illustrate the situation to the dragon.

It took Anduin bargaining something of his own - his mobile phone, actually - if Wrathion harmed any of the whelps to make Sabellian even consider the possibility, and a further ten minutes of assurances before Wrathion was finally allowed into the little bedroom.

Contary to the sulking Anduin expected, it seemed like Wrathion shared his intern’s reaction to the babies - one hand of his came up to cover his slightly open mouth as he stepped into the room, though a quick glance to Sabellian and he’d hidden the majority of his reaction. Anduin produced hand sanitiser, which both he and Wrathion used; then Anduin gently accepted the first of the little whelps which Sabellian chose to pass to him.

Reluctantly, Sabellian passed Wrathion another.

The tiny creatures were still mostly asleep - which was good, since Anduin knew they could be very lively when fully awake. He gently checked their wings and joints, ensuring they could move freely and that they had sustained no damage; he inspected the scales and crests both visibly and to the touch, to ensure there were no diseases. He asked Sabellian’s help in checking inside the whelps’ mouths to ensure their teeth were all in order - a few missing was normal at this age, he knew from his studies, although unusual discolouration or a significant number missing was cause for concern. Luckily, there was none of that. Then a quick check of their eyes to ensure they dilated and constricted usually when exposed to light, and they were done.

Their little beating hearts made Anduin smile as he examined them, one by one, placing them back in the nest once he was done and sanitising his hands again before beginning the next; and beside him, he could see Wrathion doing the same thing. If anything, he was even more careful than Anduin was - Anduin had the sometimes somewhat brusque nature of someone who had been trained to administer medicine, whereas Wrathion had no such routine experience of handling other creatures. Sabellian’s hackles raised if Wrathion lingered on a whelp too long - perhaps concerned Wrathion would kidnap it, or even eat it, if those rumours about black dragons were in any way true - but the check went smoothly aside from that.

And then they were done. They filled out the paperwork, and Anduin made smalltalk with Sabellian as they signed the declarations and - finally - left the house. “We’ll be back in a week or so with news,” Anduin said cheerfully, as they waved goodbye.

Or Anduin did, anyway. Wrathion held up a hand. “A moment,” he said, and walked back up the path. “Stay there.”

Anduin frowned, mildly concerned; but Wrathion and Sabellian spoke quietly on the doorstep for a few moments before Wrathion came back to join his intern again. “Proceed to the van, if you would.”

Anduin did so in relative silence; only once the doors were closed and Wrathion had started the engine did he enquire.  
“So… did you know any of that was going to happen?”  
“No,” said Wrathion, gripping the steering wheel tightly and not pulling out just yet.  
“Are you… okay?”  
“Fine,” Wrathion said. But his tone softened as he elaborated, “We spoke before I left. We are… going to attempt to keep in touch, this time.”  
Anduin smiled, softly. “I’m glad.”

Finally, Wrathion pulled the van out of the quiet street. It was getting dark; the streetlights were starting to flicker on as he drove back into the centre of town. And they stayed in silence - the soft hum of the engine almost soothing to Anduin - until Wrathion said something Anduin wasn’t really expecting.

“Thank you.”  
“...what?”  
“For keeping your cool today, even when I did not.” He kept his eyes trained squarely on the road ahead of him, even as they stopped for a red light. “I will discuss the matter of your promotion when we return to the firm.”  
“...oh!” Anduin’s cheeks flushed despite himself. “Well-- it’s alright, really--”  
“No. I went with you to support you on one of your first jobs, but you ended up supporting _me_ instead. A pay rise is the least I can do.”  
“Oh… well…” Anduin stared at the dashboard, playing with the latch on the glove compartment idly. “Thank you…”

The rest of the halogen-lit drive to the firm was done in silence; but Anduin was glad. He was… very, very glad. Glad for his payrise, yes. But glad for Wrathion as well.

After all, wasn’t it best? To set out to help one person, and end up helping two? He rest his head against the cold van window, smiling to himself as the city lights scrolled past outside. Even though he’d just started… this job was treating him really quite nicely.


	47. pretending to hate each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: verbal banter, avoiding nosy parents, said nosy parent being too clever for anyone's good, but it turns out ok  
> warnings: (none of note)

“You’re a jerk, Wrathion.”  
“Mmm, simplistic language use typical of a mortal.”  
“By the Light! _Shut up_! You are so _obnoxious_!”  
“Oohh, _three_ syllables, this time! I’ll surely have to watch my back. Perhaps you’ll learn how to use a _weapon_ next!”  
“ _Wrathion_!”

In the background, Tong the Fixer sighed. This was a typical day in the tavern, for him, as of late - two princes, bickering like children.

Apparently, he decided to leave them to it. And the further down the pathway towards his brewery shed he got, the further Wrathion leaned back to watch his progress - finally silencing their arguing as he was out of earshot.

“There,” Wrathion said - smiling apologetically at Anduin and reaching for his hands. “That ought to do it.”  
Anduin laughed softly, leaning into Wrathion’s touches - seeking to rest his head against his shoulder, but only after making sure they’d shuffled out of sight of the windows. “I wish there was another way to do this.”  
“As do I. But we must convince your father that we are not dating, as is rumoured, or he’ll never take my offers of help seriously. He must understand that they are not contingent on any emotional attachment to you. No matter how strong that attachment might be.”  
“Honestly I’m more worried he would attack you if he learned we were close,” Anduin admitted. “I think that’s more of a concern for him. If he thinks I’m fighting you verbally, that’s one thing, but if he suspects what we have is anything like what Katrana did to him…”

Wrathion winced a little. So “Katrana”, or as he knew her, Onyxia, was still close to the Wrynns’ minds when it came to considering black dragons. He hoped that would be fixed - with time, and with a longer-term, more business-based relationship than the romance he and Anduin had begun.

The meeting was in a week. He and Anduin would only have to keep up this awful act until then; once it had passed and he had gained King Wrynn’s respect, then they could gradually ease into the truth of the matter. But only then.

Any sooner, and Wrathion’s head could well end up on a pike on the gates of Stormwind - beside the skull of his wretched aunt.

\--

It was after the meeting, and Anduin wasn’t sure about the look his father was giving him.

It was a knowing smile. And Anduin loved his father, but… he’d learned to be wary of that smile. It usually meant he was aware of information Anduin would rather he not be aware of, for ill or good. In… in his father’s defence, usually for good. But still.

Until his father brought it up of his own accord, Anduin was unlikely to find out. So he waited until the smug smile resolved itself into sidling over, resting a broad hand on Anduin’s shoulder, and a statement:

“So how’s it going with Wrathion, then?”

Anduin jumped. “Wh… what?”  
Varian leaned down and nudged Anduin’s ribs gently with his elbow - or tried to, anyway. The man was impractically strong, and Anduin had to resist the urge to rub his ribs afterwards, wondering if he’d have a bruise. “I know you two are up to something. Is he treating you well? You having fun with him?” His tone became serious, “he’s not threatening you, right? You can tell me. I’m always here to help you.”

Anduin was stunned. “F-- Father--” He decided to fall back on the lie, like he and Wrathion had agreed. “We did nothing but fight all meeting! What makes you think we’re--”  
“Together?” Varian raised his eyebrow. “Son, I’m not exactly young. I know the ol’ _pretending to hate each other_ routine pretty well. Hell, I managed to pull it off myself for quite some years. Still not sure you know who with, so it must’ve worked better than your attempt.”

He grinned; Anduin sheepishly returned it. “I… yeah,” he conceded. “Yeah, I don’t know who that was with.”  
“Good, because it’s a secret.” But Varian clapped his son on the shoulder again. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to hurt him unless he hurts you. Just promise me you’ll tell me if something goes wrong.”  
“Um…” Anduin couldn’t get over the fact that his father had known; he’d guessed! And correctly! He was blushing all the way out to his ears. “Um, sure.”  
“Alright.” Varian smiled fondly at his son. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

And Anduin was left, thoroughly bewildered. What on _Azeroth_ was he going to tell Wrathion about all this?


	48. going through divorce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: amicable divorce, gay tess greymane, gay anduin wrynn, limited divorce laws, worldbuilding  
> warnings: implied societal cisheteronormativity

It really wasn’t that Anduin didn’t like Tess as a person. It really, really wasn’t.

Which is why he thought this divorce proceeding was _completely and utterly absurd_.

But they were royals, and the marriage they had was supposed to be sanctified by the Holy Light, and therefore eternal. Anduin knew a lot about the Light, and this marriage was anything but supported by it. It made them both miserable. Both of them were being crushed under the weight of expectation - the expectation to have sex, to have babies, to kiss in public, to do all the things that made both their hearts sob.

It really wasn’t that he didn’t like Tess, or that she didn’t like him - they loved each other dearly. Just. _As friends_. Anduin’s affections simply didn’t lie with women, much as Tess’ didn’t lie with men. And as much as they’d both talked about this before going into it, as much as they’d both said they’d be able to do it… they’d lied, not to each other, but to themselves. They couldn’t keep up the charade. Not for this long. It needed to stop.

But “we don’t love each other” wasn’t a good enough excuse for the House of Nobles. One of them had to be found to be actively violating the sanctity of said marriage. By being deceptive, and depriving it of the Respect it deserved; the connections that should join any spouses. By abandoning their shared home, thus rejecting the Tenacity that had been asked. Or by behaving cruelly to one another, thus proving that the Compassion that the marriage was supposed to embody was not present.

The last thing was not an option to either of them, not in any possible permeation of their plan. And since neither of them had desires to abandon their Kingdom, either… obviously, the only thing left to do was to try and enact some sort of deception. Cheating was the usual one.

They argued for a while on who ought to take the fall - both insisting that they should, to leave the other’s reputation untarnished. After the debate had gone on for three weeks with no resolution, and their charade of a happy marriage grating on them further every day, they decided to call in outside help.

A friend of a friend of Tess’, it was; and as he walked into the room, Anduin was… struck.

He introduced himself as a purveyor of all things right and yet hidden; all things just and yet covert. He was not a priest, he hastened to add, not even of the Shadow - he was simply one who had seen too much wrong in the world as a result of _rules_. And he was here to find a solution for them. _With_ them.

But all Anduin could think was how handsome he was. And how on Azeroth they were supposed to get through this without this “Wrathion” being the one he “cheated” on Tess with… he had _no idea_.


	49. going away to war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: canon POV change  
> warnings: unconsciousness, deception
> 
> additional notes: this is another work that is PARALLEL TO CANON, also from war crimes. therefore, best read alongside war crimes chapter 34. the dialogue is, for the most part, not mine; but the rest of the prose is.

Wrathion had known this moment would come since the point of his birth. One day, the Legion would arrive - and he, along with the rest of Azeroth’s forces, would have to defend their very existences. He would have to make some very difficult choices - sacrificing things he usually wouldn’t, under any circumstances. Things like his health. His freedom. And…

...and Anduin Wrynn.

He reminded himself of this, quietly, as he locked a squawking Chronormu into the cage that had previously held Garrosh Hellscream, and stepped into the shadows to await his inevitable arrival.

He’d done the calculations very precisely. It would be Anduin who ran down the ramp, in a panic, to try and locate the missing Bronze. Thrall was too self-important to risk missing out on the main bulk of the action; Varian, too bound to his duties to abandon the main hall. And it was those three who had, as he’d predicted, moved outside to discuss her absence. So Anduin it was - as he’d wanted.

His heart hammered in his throat as he heard footsteps in the corridor, then - sure enough - the Light-blessed Prince burst through the door, his face dropping like a stone as he saw the Chu brothers on the ground. They’d been shockingly easy to knock out, considering they were meant to be guards; no wonder this plan was running so smoothly, if this was the calibre of individual who was meant to be protecting the course of justice.

He listened to their conversation and waited for the crucial moment to step forward. It was when one of the brothers made a comment about _patience_ that his temper flared and he decided to reveal himself - “That will serve you well,” he said, smooth as he could given the circumstances. “Li in particular could use it.”

Anduin looked up at him - and Wrathion saw his heart break in his eyes, and it took all his strength to keep his resolve. This was part of the plan. The meticulous, wonderous plan. He couldn’t allow another Wrynn to disrupt it; not a second time.

Anduin spoke with a bitterness in his voice that Wrathion had wished never to hear. “Two females with crossbows - one orc, one human. Weren’t they, Li? I should have known.”  
“Perhaps you should have,” Wrathion said, lifting his chin and doing his best to glance down his nose at Anduin Wrynn. “But it is not yet within you to suspect treachery. If it is any consolation,” he said, his voice softening just a little, “I am deeply sorry for what I must now do.”  
“Sure you are,” Anduin said - he almost sounded _tired_ , and Wrathion struggled to keep his resolve.  
But he did. “Believe what you will, but it is the truth. We are friends, you and I.”

Anduin’s voice echoed off the walls as he shouted, incensed: “ _Friends_? Friends don’t kill each other!”  
And in all honesty, Wrathion was almost _irritated_. Certainly, he wouldn’t be surprised if Anduin’s earlier heartbreak was reflected in his own expression now. “Why would I do _that_? Look at the Chu brothers. They are alive, though admittedly with rather terrible headaches…”

He allowed, just for a very short moment, a display of emotion. He lowered his chin and his gaze, glancing at the floor. “And I care far less about them than I do about you.”

Anduin didn’t seem to know what to say, at first. He shook his head, and at first Wrathion took it to be an expression of disbelief. Understandably. Perhaps it was. But he asked, “what is going on here? What are you doing?”

So, of course, he explained. “You once asked me to watch and listen, and to make up my mind as to what is best for Azeroth. I have done exactly as you bid. You are heir to the throne of Stormwind. You have a duty - to keep your kingdom safe. You do what you believe is best for it and its people. As the last black dragon, the former charge of my flight - to keep Azeroth safe - falls solely to me. I must honour that charge.”

“Don’t listen to him, Anduin!” Chronormu saw fit to interrupt, and Wrathion’s eyes flashed in her direction before Anduin drew his attention again. He was gesturing angrily to the Chu brothers - still tied up and barely conscious on the ground. “This? This is keeping Azeroth safe?”

And for a long few moments, Wrathion envied Anduin’s naïvité. That he should be able to survive without knowing what was to come. And none of him, not a single fibre of his being, wanted to destroy it before the times made it necessary. If it meant allowing Anduin a few more years in safety before the storm truly arrived on their shores, then Wrathion would go to war ahead of him a thousand times.

Because there were sacrifices to be made. But he didn’t have to make them all at once.

“In this case,” he eventually spoke, “I assure you, the end does justify the means. It is my deep hope that one day you will understand.

“And on that day,” he went on, his heart fluttering with mixed emotions - “you and I will face a terrible enemy. Perhaps we shall even do so as--” a barely perceptible pause, “brothers,” he eventually settled on.

And he turned his back to Anduin Wrynn. There were desperate cries, words of begging - Anduin asking him to stay, to tell him what was happening, to work with him. But Wrathion knew it couldn’t be so. This was the final part of his plan for tonight, after all - incapacitate Anduin Wrynn in an effort to save him from the turmoil above, and then vanish into the night.

Keeping his expression blank, he turned his face towards him. “Farewell for now, young Prince,” he said. And then he raised his hand that Anduin Wrynn would know no more.


	50. tourist & knowledgeable local

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: cutesy-ass first meeting fic  
> warnings: mild social humiliation

Anduin’s backpack was almost as heavy and awkward as he felt as he ascended the Path of a Thousand Stairs. It was a popular trade route, so in theory it wasn’t too dangerous; but he’d almost tripped several times, each of them having been helped up by some kindly pandaren or grummle who probably just didn’t want him cluttering up the path.

Still, it didn’t take him too long to reach the top. Only most of the afternoon.

He was exhausted by the time he reached the top, and he stopped for a few moments to rest - some pandaren waved him over to share their picnic, and, knowing it was rude to refuse, he found himself sharing his packed lunch with them in return and chatting with them about his plans. He was exploring north, he explained, looking for the Vale; they seemed impressed, and fascinated, although nothing rivalled the cub’s fascination with Anduin’s hair. “But it’s so _blond_!” they squeaked, several times, to the amusement of all.

But then they moved on, and as Anduin waved goodbye, he came to a horrifying realisation: he didn’t actually know where to go next.

People were going in several directions from the top of the Stair, which seemed to be something of a staging area, with a small inn and a kite rack. The kite rack was tempting, but since Anduin didn’t have any Pandaren money, he knew he’d have to work to use it anyway… and seeing the land from ground level was fun.

“You look lost,” came a silky-smooth voice that didn’t seem deep enough to belong to a fully-grown pandaren. Looking in the direction it came from, Anduin saw… a man about his own age, actually.

Anduin had just turned 18, and this person seemed to be about the same age, beard just beginning to really look good on his chin and clothes just beginning to hang right from his just-finished-growing frame. He was… human, at first glance; but a second glance had him noticing the man’s pointed ears, and the third the way the light bounced off his face as he turned to face the sunlight filtering through the mists that covered this plateau of the mountains.

“Are you going to offer to fly me, or something,” Anduin quipped - deducing, and taking a leap of faith, that this man was indeed a dragon.  
“Wh-- do I look like a common gryphon?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “No. I was going to ask you which direction you wanted to go in. I’m quite familiar with the lay of this land, you see.”  
“Oh!” Anduin smiled brightly. “Do you live here, then?”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Well…” He rubbed his chin, looking around. “I wanted to get to Kun Lai somehow, and the people at Pang’s Stead told me you had to come through here to do that. But I don’t know how to go on from here…”  
“Oh, that’s _easy_.” He smiled smoothly and effortlessly knelt down beside Anduin, leaning close pointing through the mists. “You simply take the pathway towards the river over yonder, and partake in the ferry which goes between here and Binan. There’s no fee, of course. You know what the Pandaren communities are like.”  
“Oh! Thank you…” Anduin smiled, and when the man offered to help him up, he took his hand. “Sorry, what’s your name?”  
“Wrathion,” he said, pulling Anduin upright. “The Black Prince. Last of my kind, and the first uncorrupted in centuries.”

Anduin _almost_ said he was a Prince, too, but didn’t. Especially given it turned out this man was a _Black_ dragon. Instead, he bowed, the right depth for a commoner… and almost couldn’t stand up again under the weight of his backpack. He laughed lightheartedly as Wrathion helped him up again, fearing he’d looked foolish in front of the… unfairly handsome dragon.

“So do you know anything about where I can go from Binan? I heard something about a tiger spirit in Kun Lai, and I was wondering if he’d know anything about the Vale…”  
“Well…” Wrathion frowned, rubbing his little goatee.

Suddenly he was interrupted. “Hey, man, leave the tourists be! You got here _yesterday_!” Both their heads whipped around to face the grinning pandaren woman, whose well-worn sun hat and tattered overalls implied she was at least here for work and not pleasure, even if she wasn’t a local. She laughed loud at the look on Wrathion’s face, then waved them off as she went back to loading a cart: “Just try not to run Tong out of the job, hahaha!”

Wrathion’s face was burning a deep cherry-red as he and Anduin looked back at each other, but Anduin couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I think it’s very sweet of you to try,” he said. Wrathion didn’t look very reassured, so he tried: “When I’m on my way back down south again, why don’t I drop by again and we have a drink together?”

“Uh…” Wrathion scratched his cheek, looking away, and Anduin thought he might decline before he said, “...sure.”  
“Thanks,” Anduin smiled - reaching out his hand to shake Wrathion’s. “I look forward to it.” And then he thought, in his head, that he was looking forward to it because Wrathion was cute; and only after a moment did he realise he’d said it out loud.

Glad to have at least a little of the upper hand back in the conversation, Wrathion’s triumphant grin returned. “Very well, then. It wouldn’t be polite to stand a gentleman up, now, would it?”  
“Haha, no. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then?”  
“Sure. Yes. Safe travels, Anduin Wrynn.”  
“Safe, uh… whatever it is you do, Wrathion!”

He waved goodbye, the chill in the air doing nothing to dissuade his grin.


End file.
